Nihil Credo
by Personification of Fluff
Summary: Psychically linked to the victims of a murderer, Miroku becomes so ill from the pain of his visions, he must rely on his friends to catch the killer. But when the truth is revealed, Miroku only has two options left: sacrifice himself or Sango!
1. The Perverts

Nihil Credo

**Author: **Personification of Fluff

**Title:** Nihil Credo (For those who don't read Latin, the title means 'I believe nothing'; for those who do read Latin, I apologize for my poor grammar!)

**Rating:** R, or Mature, because of violence, swearing, and other mature content.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters. They all belong to their rightful creators, among them CLAMP and Rumiko Takahasi. However, the plot and all character who are not affiliated with animes, they belong to me. This has no basis on any worlds at all, merely on the characters with which I am choosing to play God.

**Summary**: Miroku finds himself becoming linked psychically to the victims of serial killer of possible demonic origins. With each vision he has of another murder, it becomes harder and harder for him to recuperate and deal with the pain. Unless they can find the killer before the government-denied murder kills again, Miroku will surely die. But what happens when his newest partner, Sango, turns out to be either the next target… or the killer?

**Relationships: **Primarily Miroku/Sango, but there's also some hints of Akane/Ranma, Inuyasha/Kagome, Fuu/Ferio, and whatever other couples I throw in here…

**Author's Notes: **Fan fiction is my chance to explore different genres. Not that I'm bored of fluff, just that I had a really good idea, and I thought that I would like to try to write a horror/mystery fic. Of course, given that I have never tried doing anything like this before, it's probably more like gross/icky/suspense fic. Which means that there will be lots of cliffhangers.

Eve, thank you. I think that something you said while I was once eavesdropping in on a conversation between you and Aamalie somehow helped to turn this into what it will become, so here's to your immortality. (_grins_)

And, up until I'm done my exams, I will be stressed from not finding a job for the summer, and I will be stressed from studying, and my hands will be ready to fall of from having to write exams… so, posting will be slow going. I just wanted to see how this is received.

Here's to experimentation! (_Cheers!_)

* * *

Chapter One: The Perverts

"Perverts!"

"Lechers!"

"Damn it!" Ranma swore, dodging another hair dryer thrown at him. He swore he smelled the singed hair of his pigtail. "How'd they find out about us sneaking in this time?"

"Who knows!" Miroku laughed, running along side his friend down the halls of the girl's dormitory. He laughed wildly, as if it didn't seem to matter that girls were throwing objects of various densities and sharpness at them—they had dodged everything from textbooks to hair dryers to socks.

They rounded a corner, the open window from which they had snuck through right ahead of them. Miroku sped up, planning on reaching it first. "Age before beauty, Ranma!" he laughed wildly, racing ahead and managing to climb through the window in one fluid movement.

Ranma Saotome, on the other hand, was seriously debating running through the wall. He dodged a science textbook, and it hit Miroku square in the head. Ranma snickered, climbing through the window just as easily as his best friend had. He heard a crash when Miroku landed on the ground, in a daze from the sudden blow to the head.

Landing easily on his feet and barely crushing the grass under his feet, Ranma grabbed Miroku's collar and hoisted him off the ground as easily as if he were made of paper. Miroku roused a bit, his blue eyes still a little clouded over. "Come on, you idiot!"

Miroku followed, and they managed to escape off campus without having every single girl in the dorm room on their feet brandishing pitchforks and shovels. Breathing heavily, they stopped at the corner of an empty intersection. The two boys looked very similar, but their personalities were sharply contrasting. Miroku was often smiling, and was the more social of the two. He also had more brains, which Ranma would only occasionally grudgingly admit. Miroku loved his women, and Ranma only had eyes for martial arts and becoming stronger. It had been, of course, Miroku's idea to stop studying for their mid term and to break into the girls' dorm room.

Ranma shook his head, trying to clear it, and he laughed a little, clapping his friend so hard on the back Miroku thought that his shoulder bone was broken. "It was great seeing you run like that!" he laughed heartily, starting to walk down the street. His hands in his pockets, his broad shoulders braced and his chin held high, he looked proud. Miroku was glad to see his friend was in a good mood and not busy tearing out his dark hair over the modern Germany mid term they had at the end of the week. "Brought back a lot of memories, Miroku. But it was a little fruitless expedition, don't you think?"

"Hardly," Miroku snorted. He reached into this jacket and pulled out a pair of lacy black underwear. He held it up triumphantly for Ranma to see, and the younger boy thought he was going to gag. "I managed to get these. I always did say I was going to get into Eve's underwear, no matter how much she resisted my charms. I wonder what she'll give me to give them back to her."

He arched an eyebrow and looked at Miroku suspiciously. Sometimes Miroku was a little too devious, even for his friend's tolerance. "Entrapment, Miroku? Don't you have a shred of decency?"

"Of course I do. She lets me warm her bed, and will actually give them back to her as opposed to running them up the flag pole."

* * *

They returned to the male's dorm room on the other side of campus, easily sneaking inside. Miroku was still laughing triumphantly about the wonderful steal he had made, and Ranma was patiently suffering through his friend's boasting. Eventually, before he pushed Ranma's buttons too much, Miroku silenced himself and picked up his homework. 

Ranma didn't know how he did it. Miroku had an ability to be both the funnest person he had ever met, and the most serious. One moment, he would be laughing, and then he would reach over and put on his glasses and become the perfect student.

He stripped off his shirt, throwing it into the laundry hamper overflowing with clothes. Ranma wrinkled his nose. He knew he had to do his laundry soon, but he couldn't find time. He had a test tomorrow, and he should have studied, but he didn't feel like it. He was too tired. Besides, he never studied, unless Miroku made him. He didn't have the ability to simply put on glasses and then pick up a textbook and read it from beginning to end in one sitting like Miroku did.

The pants he was wearing were thrown in as well. Down in his boxers, Ranma threw back the covers of the top bunk before pulling himself up. He pulled the covers up over his head and closed his eyes.

By the time Miroku was done the book and turning off the light, Ranma was fast asleep. He yawned, covering his mouth with his hand. The textbook went on the nightstand and he looked at the clock, pulling off his glasses. It was four am.

'No wonder I'm tired…' He clicked off the light and reclined in bed, trying to go to sleep. But his eyes wouldn't close. He was lost in a feeling of dread, and he could not find his way back to reality.

It struck him hard. His body turned cold. He began to shiver. His teeth rattled in his head. His muscles tightened and he gasped for breath. His eyes stared up at the bunk over his, blind to it all. Pain lanced down his chest, from his neck straight down to his navel. It burned. It burned worst than anything he had ever felt before. His mouth opened up to scream, and he screamed until his vocal cords cracked and seized, yet no sound came out. Nausea swam around his head. Tears came to his blind eyes. They rolled over his burning cheeks, and still his mouth was open, a look of utmost horror and pain. His knuckles cracked as he tried to reach out for the bed he knew was above him, but chains seemed to bind him, holding him down.

He was going to go insane.

He was going to die.

And then it was gone, leaving behind the pain. Dots of dizziness danced behind his eyes. He coughed up blood, and wiped his mouth, finding more of the red liquid at the corner of his mouth. His whole body was sore, but the stomach felt the worst. He leaned back his head, closing his eyes. His hand covered his stomach, and he breathed deeply. His throat was still hoarse from screaming. The nausea wouldn't go away.

Bolting from the bed, he ran to the washroom as fast as his legs could carry him. He was ill, but quiet. It wasn't the first time Miroku had needed to hide the fact that he was physically affected by the moments of Dread he had. The only one who knew about it was Ranma.

Ranma didn't wake up. He didn't hear Miroku.

The older boy snuck back into the bedroom, moving weakly. His muscles still hadn't quite relaxed, and the episode in the washroom hadn't helped him to feel any better. He pulled out a forty of vodka from under his bed and then slunk back into the washroom. He turned the light on after he shut the door, cursing when the brightness of the blue and white washroom momentarily blinded him again, reminding him of the blinding white lights he had seen as he felt the pain run down his torso.

Opening it up hurriedly, he drank back a shot, nearly vomiting again. But the burning sensation helped to clear his head and wake him back up. Miroku felt he had to be a masochist. Only a masochist would ever think of burning his esophagus and insulting his stomach to make him feel better.

The nausea began to pass as memories of the pain began to fade. The forty shook in Miroku's hand, and he was forced to put it down on the tiled floor. His whole body still shivered a little. Miroku tried his best to control it, but in the end, he took another shot. His body recovered a little bit more.

He considered reporting it. The phone was laying in a secret compartment in the bed. He could phone up the department, let them know what had happened, and Ranma would be none the wiser.

But it hadn't been normal. It wasn't important. It was just a fluke. He had had seen erroneous things before. It wasn't important.

He thought it so often he began to believe it, but he never left the floor of the washroom. The world felt safer in the washroom. The white walls and the blue tiles were plain, and simple. The washroom was fairly clean, for being the washroom of two male university students. It was the only normal thing in his life. Nothing was wrong in the washroom. The world was normal in that washroom. It was easy to make himself believe that he had crawled back after some frat party and had vomited from acute alcohol poisoning, and that he was too drunk to stop drinking, hence the vodka in his hand.

God, all Miroku knew was that he didn't want to go back to bed.

* * *

When Ranma woke up in the morning, he found Miroku coming out of the shower, smiling and toweling off his dark hair. 

"Morning," Miroku grinned, snapping his towel at the back of Ranma's head and earning a growl from his friend. "Ready for breakfast and then that wonderful modern Germany mid term today? Actually, it's in an hour and a half, so you better hurry."

It was so wonderfully normal, and Ranma was so incredibly sleepy that he completely missed the fact that the washroom was sparklingly clean. Unable to stay awake, Miroku had cleaned the washroom from top to bottom, and then jumped in the shower himself.

Even three hours later, Miroku still shuddered when he saw the bed and remembered the way he had felt chained down, and the pain that had ripped him apart…

* * *

'Weimar republic, Weimar republic,' Miroku chanted, trying to remember what he had read last night. He tapped his pencil against his lips, staring off into space. Ranma was a little suspicious. Miroku was almost always focused on one thing or another. When he got that far away look, however, when Miroku was focused on something that seemed far away, that's when Ranma always worried. He was beginning to feel like something was going on. 

Someone near them coughed. Both boys turned around to see Eve sitting behind them, glaring at them both. Her eyes darted between the two of them, before deciding that it had to be Miroku. She leaned over the desk. "I want it back," she hissed.

Miroku laughed. The sound was so care-free that for a moment Ranma wondered if maybe he had been mistaken. Maybe nothing was wrong with Miroku.

"You want what back, my darling Eve?"

"You know what, you stupid pervert."

His jaw opened in mock hurt, and Ranma had to try not to laugh. "Oh, Eve. If you can't say it, then how am I going to know what you want back? Maybe I have many things that belong to you. And to hear you call me such names! It makes my heart ache."

She rolled her eyes, and glanced up at the front of the class. The professor was shifting a mountain of papers in his arms. Their tests were pages long. All of them felt nervous. "Never mind," Eve mumbled, leaning back in her seat and beginning to play with her long hair.

Miroku smirked, and was about to turn away, when something around Eve's neck caught his eye. He craned his neck up to see over the desks on the level above him. Dangling around her neck was a black rope, and from it hung a chunk of a light pink rock. His eyes slid up, and he found her staring at her, looking flustered, as if she didn't know to smack him for looking at her breasts—it wasn't his fault that's where the rock hung—or if she was starting to fall for the smug attitude he had caught from Ranma.

"What?" she snapped.

"Oh," Miroku purred, "I was just thinking. You see, it's a very pretty necklace you have there. It sets off your dark hair wonderfully, and brings out the color of your cheeks. But I wonder… do you know what it stands for?"

With his back turned, Ranma rolled his eyes. He'd heard this pick up lines how many times? Didn't Miroku have anything new? Ranma knew he was smart enough to make up another pick up line, and it wasn't like this one _worked_, anyway.

"It's just a piece of rose quartz," she stammered, as if wondering why a rock could mean anything.

"Not just any rock," Miroku continued, his voice deepening and softening, rolling off of the tip of his tongue. "It's rose quartz. It's the rock of love. Quartz rocks are great for holding mental energy and power. Rose quartz, in particular, is great for holding energy and power regarding love. Sexual power, simple longing, the feeling of being needed…"

Eve rolled her eyes. She should have known that any conversation she started up with Miroku would eventually involve sex in some way. Still, she arched an eyebrow. "How do you know about stuff like that?"

Miroku simply stared back at her, the quiet expression in his grey-blue eyes making her feel a little nervous. She hurriedly continued. "You sound like my cousin, actually. She's the one who gave me the necklace." Even fingered the rock, playing with it, her eyes watching the tests being passed along by students in front of her.

"You seem to speak with her with some longing. Was she close to her? Do you miss her or something. Does she live far away?"

If it wasn't for the sincerity in his voice, she never would have answered him. She nodded, taking a test and passing them along. "She's like a sister to me… we even look like sisters. Now, if you don't mind, I have a mid-term to fail."

Miroku took the test as it circled his row, passing it one to Ranma, who was cursing under his breath in every single language he knew. The blue-eyed boy smiled a little. At least he wasn't the only one feeling nervous about the test.

Tapping his pen lid against his lips, he carefully began reading over the questions. His calculating mind went back to trying to remember what he could about the Weimar republic. He was concentrating so hard that he the words on the page began to blur. 'Weimar… Weimar…. Wei… wine!' His eyes snapped open and he stared at the crisp, white pages. 'I could smell wine, and blood. There was so much blood…'

He tried to pull himself out of the well of power he had accidentally fallen into. He clenched the desk, trying to steady himself, and remain in this world. His head began to swim, the world getting lighter and lighter, blindingly intense, and painfully so. His eyes burned inside his skull, and his furiously beating heart felt like it was lodged in his throat. He gasped for breathe, telling himself to remain calm. He was able to hear Eve starting to scream as the world spun and he slipped form his chair, landing in a tangle of limbs and torso on the floor. He heard Ranma call out in surprise and try to catch him, but not even he was fast enough.

Miroku didn't feel it when he hit the floor. There was no floor. He was lost in the white light. All he could smell was blood and wine. Pain tore through his body, so intense the white-world began to become littered with dancing black spots. He leaned back his head to scream, but his throat was already raw from crying and begging. His cheeks were soaked with tears. Miroku was sure he was going to die again.

"Miroku! Miroku!" Ranma was panicked when his voice had no effect on Miroku. He glanced up, seeing the teacher trying to regain control of the class and worm his way through the people in the row to get to Miroku. He couldn't let that happen. If they did, they'd want to take Miroku to the hospital. Ranma cursed wildly, pulling out his cell-phone and hitting only two numbers. He slipped it back in his pocket before he once again reached out to try and hold Miroku back.

He was always panicked when things like this happened, but this one he knew, had to be especially painful. They had never lasted this long. He knew that he had lost time making that phone call, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't let Miroku be taken to the hospital, where they would be separated and the paramedics would stick needles in him and stuff his body with chemicals… they wouldn't help him. They weren't what he needed.

For a moment when he saw Miroku, he doubted himself. How long would it take them to come and get them? How long would it take for Miroku to snap out of it? "Miroku!" he cried again when he saw that his friend was having a seizure.

People three rows below them, their views hidden by the desks, heard his cry and had shivers run down their spine.

Finally, his shaking body stilled. The professor had finally made it to their spot, and was staring at Miroku's still body wide-eyed. Even Ranma panicked for a moment, watching the blood run from between his friend's chapped lips. Miroku was as pale as stone, and just as cold. Ranma clutched his hand, and then sprung into action. He wasn't thinking about what he was doing. Ranma wasn't the kind of guy to think. That was Miroku's job.

He ripped open Miroku's black dress shirt. Buttons scattered on the ground. His hands felt like fire against his cold skin as they pressed over his chest, beginning to pump up and down over Miroku's heart. "You bastard! You fucking bastard!" he cried, starting to administer CPR, his wide eyes locked on Miroku's pale face. "You're not allowed to do this to me! Don't even think about it, you bastard!" He stopped to actually look square on to Miroku, yelling: "You get back here this moment, you pervert! You get the _fuck_ back here!"

"Young… young man…" the professor chided, stuttering. "Young man, don't use that kind of language…"

"I'll go call the paramedics," Ranma heard Eve say. Finally, someone had the good enough sense to use the phone! The girl behind her passed her a cell phone, so that she wouldn't need to leave.

"Get back here, Miroku!"

"Mr. Saotome, refrain yourself from…"

He didn't understand. That was how he needed to call Miroku back to him. Miroku was lost. He needed to call Miroku back to him, to keep him from passing away, to get him _back_ to where he belonged. It wasn't helping. Miroku's lips were tinged with blue. He wasn't breathing either.

Ranma began to breathe for him. He continued to keep his heart beating for him. He was going to be damned if his best friend and partner was going to pass away while he was right there.

* * *

To be Continued… 


	2. The Bureau

Nihil Credo

Chapter Two: The Bureau

Miroku lay in the hospital bed, the thin sheets tucked around his body, the rising and falling motion of his chest almost invisible. Worried about his partner and friend, Ranma had stayed with him throughout the night, and was curled up on a nearby chair. His eyes were half-open, but other than that, he showed no sign of being awake. He was as still and quiet as Miroku.

So it was quite a surprise when Ranma suddenly screamed. He had screamed because, without warning, Miroku's whole body had suddenly spasmed. Miroku's eyes shot open and he sat up straight in bed, letting out a strangled scream. Ranma, at first startled, recovered in the blink of an eye and he lunged for the bed, clasping Miroku's hand tightly.

"It's okay, Miroku! It's okay! You're safe!"

The other boy put a hand to his heaving chest, as if feeling for something. His hand groped up and down from his pectorals to his waist, and he seemed confused when he couldn't find whatever it was he was looking for, as well as a little relieved.

"I… I'm alive," he side finally, his blue-grey eyes still wide. He turned to Ranma, puzzled. "I was sure I was dead."

"We all were," Ranma admitted, frowning from puzzlement. "You had a seizure right at the start of the modern Germany midterm." He suddenly growled a little. "What was that, Miroku? I mean, honestly, what was it? First you had a seizure, and then you went into a trance, and then your heart stopped in the fucking middle of the trance!"

"Um... heartburn?"

"I ain't so stupid as to buy that. Guess again." The threatening tone of Ranma's voice was getting thicker and heavier. Miroku looked away from him. He clearly didn't want to talk about it. "I've seen you go into your trances before, Miroku, but you've never had anything like this before…"

"Because I'd never experienced anything that… _intense_ before," Miroku said, in a shaky and awed voice. His hand was still clutching at his chest and he was still shaking. His expression was faintly surprised, but serious as he looked up at Ranma standing over him. "Not even an orgasm."

Ranma looked at him incredulously, wondering how Miroku could have come so close to death and be such a pervert after he had just woken up.

"No, really! During the late, oh, seventeenth century… no, wait, late sixteenth, early seventeenth century, right around Shakespeare's time, people thought you died during sex from the intensity of orgasms. The puns about death in Shakespeare's plays are all about orgasms… or possibly about catching syphilis from a hooker," he shrugged.

"…you history majors are fucking weird," Ranma noted.

Miroku merely shrugged in response. The color was slowly returning to his face, but he still continued to run his hands down the middle of his chest. Miroku noticed the IV attatched to his arm and pulled it out. He hated the drugs that they gave people. Normally their hospital tried more natural remedies, but sometimes the only way to get something into someone's body was through and IV. He hear Ranma shudder and turn away.

Miroku thought a moment, gently rubbing his arm. He then jumped out of bed, peeling off his hospital gown without the slightest hint of modesty for the naked body underneath.

Ranma merely crossed his arms and looked exasperated. "What the hell are you doin' always feeling yourself up like that? Get the hell back in bed, Miroku! Can't you just relax and take it easy? You nearly _died_!"

"Are you really sure?" he asked out of the blue, sounding a little odd. His voice sounded a little hollow. "I can't believe I didn't die. I was so sure… I was so sure I had died. I was waiting to wake up and find myself in a place with fluffy white clouds and lots of women willing to sleep with me."

Tossing the gown on the bed, he looked down at his chest. His skin was unblemished, and his hands slowly felt the taught skin, making sure he was still whole. His face was puzzled, his voice still hollow as his hands rubbed up and down the smooth muscle of his chest. "I was so sure… God, it felt like I was being ripped open, from side to side, like, like… like I was undergoing mitosis."

Ranma merely looked confused.

"Like I was a wishbone being pulled in two."

"Oh," Ranma said, understanding. Then he just looked plain worried. His deep voice covered up the sound of the door opening. "What did you see, Miroku? What…"

"I wouldn't answer that just yet," a cool voice said from the doorway. It nearly sounded monotone. Miroku immediately felt eyes roaming up and down his naked body. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

'Hell, I don't even need to be psychic to know who it is.'

He could feel the eyes move down his legs, his back, and his legs, ending at the tips of his fingers. He swallowed hard, trying to repress a shudder. The sensual tension in the air was enough to make his head swim, but his own skills were fighting back against Kagura's. Miroku wasn't so stupid or so weak as to be drawn in by a bit of psychic pheromone. Ranma, who lacked any psychic powers completely, practically needed a bucket to catch the drool.

"Urgh," Kagura groaned, disgusted. She wheeled her chi back in, and Ranma snapped back to himself. She watched, still disgusted, as he wiped the back of his mouth with his hand and seemed surprised that he couldn't remember what had just happened. 'Imbecile.'

She threw Miroku's clothes on the bed, landing beside him. "Ferio called you. He wants to see you two as soon as possible. Word is he got a call from Sesshomaru asking about you, so he's supposed to report to Sesshomaru as soon as he gets briefed from you two."

Miroku turned to face Kagura. Her red eyes stared back at him from underneath her black bangs, and she winked at him. Her smile was disturbingly sweet for Kagura. As he thanked her for bringing him his clothes, she checked him out once more.

"It's a pity you have to cover it all up…" she sighed, staring at him.

'…Oh, the irony. The one girl who actually wants to get into my pants is the one girl who is so insane I don't know how anyone can get close to her…' He was disturbed from his thoughts when the door shut and Ranma nearly burst out laughing at Miroku, finding everything highly amusing. Miroku growled and threw a balled up sock at Ranma.

"I don't stick it in the crazy," Miroku hissed before putting on his pants. He did up the belt buckle with shaking hands. "And she's got the most perverse bedside manner out of anyone I've ever met! Even me! God, I hate hospitals!"

* * *

Ferio de Forest was the only Frenchmen who worked in the Japanese branch of the IBSP—the International Bureau for Studies of the Paranormal. He was more than certain that was why he had gotten stuck working with the people he did. Did Sesshomaru know how much of a pain in the ass it was trying to control Ranma Saotome? Or how many times Ferio had to cloister Miroku to keep the man focused on work and _not_ on the derrieres of passing female interns? 

No, Ferio could guarantee it. He still had to admit, however, that as much as Ranma and Miroku were a pain to control, they did their work, and they did it to the best of their abilities.

That still didn't stop them from having only ever solved one case. But if that was the best of their abilities…

Ferio hung his head, his scarred face falling into his hands. He had given them an easy assignment: go to school. Even that had failed. They'd missed their exam because of Miroku's powers. Were they hopeless? Maybe he could use the sudden seizure of psychic power Miroku had displayed to his advantage and convince them that working for the FBI of the supernatural world wasn't for them.

The problem was: it _was_ for them.

Sure, they had only ever solved one case. Sure, Miroku had a tendency to flirt whenever a girl was involved. Sure, Ranma had a bad habit of sending to the people to the hospital if they called him a girl or a wuss, but that was all because of _emotion_. The two of them didn't have control of their emotions and they were supposed to.

The IBPS always worked in teams of two. They began training as soon as they were children, when they began to display powers of either psychic or physical prowess. Each team had one psychic or magic-user, and the other team member had skills in the physical, especially fighting.

There was, as always, exceptions to this rule, but he tried not to think of them. Those girls weren't in his care, so why should he worry about them?

The teams were supposed to balance each other out, like yin and yang. But they weren't supposed to be opposites. It was more like they were half of the same soul, that one governed the physical and the other the mental.

The problem with Miroku and Ranma was that they got into trouble too much, and often goaded the other person into it. If they would grow up and show just a shred of the maturity that Ferio could see in them, he was certain that they would be a wonderful team, maybe even one of the best... If they could just control their emotions!

"Like you're one to talk of controlling your emotions," Fuu said gently from the doorway. She smiled at her husband, fluffing her blonde hair. "Weren't you the one who asked me out on a date during the orientation week? It only took you two hours to get up your nerve," she pointed out.

He grinned at his partner, lifting his face from his hands. His gold eyes were laughing, and drinking in the sight of her. He still didn't know just how lucky he was for being able to find the woman of his dreams, be married to her for twenty years, and still feel like a schoolboy with a crush whenever he saw her.

The color rose to his face, making the scars on his cheek and nose stand out more. How she was able to unsettle him just by pointing something out in her soft voice still confused him as much as it did amaze him. Ferio smiled at Fuu.

"That I did, but I still managed to do my job. And look at me now, love. I'm the boss and..."

"And you get to make all the decisions," she finished for him, smiling and rolling her eyes. She had never rolled her eyes before she had met him. Fuu smiled at Ferio. "Miroku and Ranma are here," she said to him.

In a flash, with the speed for which he was famous, Ferio was up and out of his chair, and had grabbed his wife around her waist, scooping her up into his arms. "Let them wait outside for a moment," he purred into her ear before nuzzling her neck.

Fuu giggled and easily slipped out of his arms. She steadied herself on her feet and planted a gentle kiss on his neck. "As I said, like you're one to talk about emotion. I'll send them in so you can talk to them. If you want a woman's touch, just think it. I'll be right outside of the door."

"Yes, M'am," he grinned, flashing his white teeth and looking suddenly as old as the boys outside his office door. The smile that Fuu gave him was enough to make him feel like he was floating.

Stepping out of the office, she shut the door. Miroku and Ranma sat uncomfortably in chairs in front of her, their expressions sullen. Or mostly sullen. She sighed when she noticed the way Miroku's eyes stayed attuned to certain parts of her anatomy. To Fuu's delicate psychic sense, his thoughts were as loud as a jackhammer. Even if she didn't have the gift of telepathy, she would have been able to know what he was thinking, anyway.

She surprised him when she bent down to his level and took his chin into her hand. His eyes went immediately from the part of her anatomy at which he had been staring to her eyes, which were very serious. "I'm a married woman, Miroku," she pointed out to him, "and I'm too old for you."

"You're only fourteen years older than I am," he retorted, his hand suddenly landing on her derriere and rubbing the curve of her body.

"_Miroku!__ Get your hand off of my wife and get your ass in here this second! And drag that good for nothing Saotome in here too!" _Ferio hollered from his office.

Quick as bunnies, Ranma and Miroku were off to Ferio's office. Fuu, once she had gotten over her shock of having a good looking young man grope her with the widest, cutest grin she could imagine, smiled and straightened.

_Don't be too hard on him,_ she told her husband, taking back her seat at her desk outside of Ferio's office. _It's a defense mechanism. He keeps people away to keep them from getting too close to him. The only one he'll let close to him is Ranma, and even that doesn't go too far. Miroku likes his privacy. He's still pale and shaky from the visions. Even his shirt isn't done up properly, and poor Ranma is too kind to tell him. I'd let him bring up the vision on his own._

* * *

"You called for us, sir?" Ranma asked. His back was stiff as he regarded his teacher, who was sitting calmly behind his desk with his nose in a folder. The two boys glanced at each other when Ferio didn't respond. Miroku motioned for Ranma to go on. "Uh… sir?"

"Ranma," Ferio said slowly, "I'm not going to start until Miroku is ready to deal with this. Are you ready, son?" he asked cautiously, his suspicious eyebrow vanishing into his green bangs. The boy in front of him looked positively frightened, and Ferio knew that it was going to get worse. He smiled from pride when Miroku nodded.

They might not be the best of all the detectives working within the Bureau, but as far as he was concerned, they were the bravest. It didn't take much to wander into a house full of angry spirits and exorcise them when you knew you could do it, but to wander into a building fearing your own death or the death of your partner and fight through that fear?

Now that was bravery.

"Very well," he continued. He got up and began moving around his desk, hearing Ranma's hidden snicker when the martial artist noticed their boss was wearing running shoes. Ranma still couldn't get over seeing their boss look like a normal guy, wearing jeans and a pale yellow turtleneck and sneakers.

"Miroku, it has been a long time since anyone in this institution ever had a vision as forceful as the one you had this morning. Hm, Fuu?" He stopped again, and then nodded, smiling at his students. "Fuu will bring in some sandwiches for you from the cafeteria. You both must be very hungry. It's almostnine o clock in the evening. You've been asleep all day, Miroku."

As Ferio continued to talk, Ranma got distracted and began looking around the office. It looked like the office of any normal businessman, save for Ferio's casual attire. There was a wood desk in the middle of the desk, with a flickering computer screen and a mug full of pens sitting at hand. The room was windowless, but the softly hanging halogen lights gave the impression of sunlight, as did the large painting by Monet hanging behind the desk like a window to a world of blurred, bright colors. He stopped when he heard _his_ name.

"Sesshomaru wants to see us?" Sesshomaru. Ferio's boss. The head honcho of the Japanese district of the IBSP. "Why?"

"Weren't you listening?" Ferio demanded.

Miroku snorted. "Ranma never listens… ow." He rubbed his arm where Ranma had punched him, and he scowled. "I had an intense vision, okay? They think that possibly my powers could be expanding faster than I can deal with. They just want to meet with me to make sure that I'm okay, and to ask me what it is I saw… I think Sesshomaru knows that this was the second vision I had in the past twenty-four hours, and both of the same thing…"

"You had another vision?" Ranma roared. Miroku nodded, and Ranma subsided to muttering bad words under his breath, something about Miroku doing something to dreams which most people would have thought was impossible, given a dream's incorporeal nature.

"What was the vision about?" Ferio asked gently.

"Death."

There was a moment of silence in the room, which was broken when Fuu came in carrying a tray of sandwiches and drinks. She stared around at everyone staring back at her, and then smiling sweetly. Their thoughts were laid out for her to see.

"Miroku," she said soothingly, handing the tree first to Ranma, "you can tell us. You don't even have to use words. You can tell me. Open up your mind to me, and I can see your vision. You won't have to repeat it to anyone. I will tell Sesshomaru-sama for you."

He looked panicked at the idea of opening up his mind to someone, even the wife of the man who had taught him everything he knew about fighting and the IBSP. His skin turned white, his dark eyes so contrasted that he looked like a deer in the headlights. It was an expression of full out panic…

And then he considered going up in front of Sesshomaru, the head boss of the district, and fainting as he remembered his vision, fainting from the way the pain would wash over him again and the fear that he had felt.

And then there was always that damned necklace to consider…

He let Fuu into his mind. He didn't just open up his mind, he practically threw the vision into her mind. He couldn't get rid of it. The memories were still there, bleeding painfully away in his mind, but now she would know too. She would help him through this.

Her chest stopped breathing. Her face turned as white as his. Ferio was dutifully by her side, helping her to stand when her shaking legs threatened to give out. Fuu raised a hand to cover her mouth, and when she lowered it, Miroku could see tears in her eyes. She wrapped her slender arms around him. "Oh, Miroku. You poor thing! No wonder you reacted in such a manner… and to think that I only experienced a fraction of that…" She stood behind him as he sat, nibbling on his sandwich, feeling it turn to sand in his mouth. She looked over him at her husband. "It was a vivisection, Ferio."

Ranma then chose the most inopportune moment to speak up. "What's a vivisection?"

Ferio answered slowly. "It's usually cutting someone alive for the purpose of studying their anatomy. It was normally done on animals, but it's been done on humans before too. Miroku experienced a vivisection in his vision…"

Ranma felt his sandwich turn to dirt too. He barely managed to swallow the piece he was chewing. He stared over at his pale friend. "Fuck, Miroku… no wonder you passed out. So, in the room, when you kept looking at your chest, you were trying to find…"

He nodded wearily. "Cut down the middle, from esophagus to my belly button, so realistic I have expected that Kagura or Amy would have had to have sewn me back up."

"So, he was right," a new voice said. It was strong, but lightly muffled. When they turned, they realized why. Another member of the IBSP's senior staff was leaning in the door way. Kakashi, the most respected teacher in the entire branch of Japan.

According to rumor, it was he who had trained Sesshomaru, and it had been Sesshomaru in one of their combats who had disfigured Kakashi to the point where the lower half of the man's face and one eye was covered by a cloth mask. Kakashi was also the only member of the entire Bureau who had no partner, and rumor said it was because he had no need for one, that he had a special eye which could see through time and space and see anything.

"Who was right sir?" Ranma inquired.

Kakashi slid into the room. He took up little space, and seemed to have no presence what so ever. He was as invisible as a ghost. "Sesshomaru was right. Miss Fuu, please shut the door, and remain with us here. This is all top-secret information."

After Fuu had shut the door and pulled in two more chairs into the room, they all sat down, and began to talk.

* * *

So spoke Kakashi. 

"Two years ago, we found the very first victim. It happened in Hokkaido. A young man was found in such a state of decay that the police couldn't figure out what had happened to him, not at first. As the investigation went on, it became clearer and clearer that the man had been dissected. The body had been found in the sea, and so at first they had thought it had been a shark attack. When it became clear that somewhere, the man had been dissected, the man began to immediately start preparation for a search of all of Hokkaido, trying to find the missing family of the unidentified man, and trying to find the missing body parts, and the missing blood. However, the government of Japan secretly intervened. To have such a heinous murder become public would not only cause panic, but also interfere in the tourist industry, and so on… so the case was closed.

"Then, last year, another body was found. This time it was female, and this time, we were the ones who arrived on the seen. It was slightly different than before. This time it was in Tokyo, in the University. We assume that the killer was unable to remove the body from the scene of the crime, and so they left it there, taking certain body parts again… and all the blood. There was no one drop of blood in the body, or in the room.

"At this point, it's still too early for the Bureau to start making any guesses about what the killer wants, who it is… but we do have a few hypothesis based upon deduction and superficial evidence. We have a group in Hokkaido continuing to search for any evidence left in the city, and we have another group currently in Tokyo U. They are my students. This was supposed to be their big case, the one that would get their names into the Bureau, but as it now seems like your young psychic has somehow become connected to the victim, I'm proposing that these two teams join up, if only temporarily. Perhaps Miroku's vision may give my students insight into who the killer is."

* * *

Miroku suddenly leapt up from the chair. "Kakashi, sir! I didn't really see anything in my vision," he protested. "I didn't see anything about the killer, but I know who the victim is! She was alive and well when I saw her this morning in my exam!" 

Kakashi seemed to have caught his excitement. He stood up, his single eye looking excited. "Who, boy? Who was it?"

The name seemed to catch in his throat. "Eve."

"How do you know this, boy?" Kakashi demanded, ignoring Ranma's sputtered sounds of shock.

"She had on a rose quartz necklace," Miroku said, his voice clipped. He was trying to remain focused, but his head was buzzing. He was starting to feel dizzy. He wondered if maybe he had eaten too fast, or not enough at all. His words began to slow. "It was very pretty… tied with a black cord… hung like a cho… choker around her neck… there was a wire design keeping it tie… tied down… it was supposed to stand for… love… I saw it… on my throat…."

He managed to get out the last word before the vision struck him for the third time. His stomach rolled, and he fell to his knees, clutching his throat. Ranma was at his side in a heart beat, trying to support Miroku as the man's mind swam about in nothingness, and then in infiltrating pain. Fuu was scared for Miroku. She was one of the strongest mind-readers in the branch, and yet she felt nothing. There was no psychic power in the air, not even Miroku's. If it was a psychic bond which bound Miroku to the victims, it was such a deep bond that she could not sense it.

Only Kakashi seemed able to react in a way without concern. Ferio was trying to climb over the litter of chairs in his small office to reach Miroku. Kakashi was in front of his desk, calmly dialing a telephone number.

Miroku vomited up a bit of blood. Ranma remained from saying anything impolite, instead trying to coax Miroku back into the world of light…

There was light everywhere. He was hot. He felt like he was on the surface of the sun, bound down to a blistering rock. He was scared. He wasn't picking up on Eve's fears, they were his own. He was terrified. He knew what was coming, and he was trying to prepare himself for the pain, but it wasn't helping. Nothing prepared him for the pain of suddenly being ripped into two pieces.

And when the time came, he screamed, and he would not stop.

* * *

**Author's Notes**:

I am glad to see that thus far everyone like the chapters. A lot of you said that you were nervous about reading crossovers, but that you liked this one. I think the reason why is that this isn't your average crossover. The story is completely AU, so you don't need to know anything about the other animes involved. I just needed the characters… I wasn't familiar with enough of them in IY.

Anyway, Fuu and Ferio belong to CLAMP and Magic Knights Rayearth, and I don't know who is the author/artist of Naruto, but Kakashi comes from Naruto.

Oh, yes, and obviously captioning within _these things_ is supposed to display Fuu's telepathic powers.

To Eve… yeah… sorry! I was trying to go one way, and my muse was going the other!

**Hououza**: Exams are indeed going okay thus far. The exam that I am facing tomorrow will no doubt be my hardest one, as it covers historians and how to exam history from Herodotus in Ancient Greece to Fukuyama in the twentieth century. But… I can do it. I have to.

**Tsuki**: Hey, I think your grammar was just fine.

**Siren**: Sorry again… Really, really sorry… But hey, Miroku had a crush on you, so maybe that counts for something? And no, Margo didn't give me your profile. It just… happened. That's how I saw her, and how I thought she should act. I mean, if she was a pushover, she wouldn't be standing up to Miroku and giving him cause to steal her panties now would she? So I wanted her to be tough, and a little witty to challenge him. (Psst, I got Ukyo in for chapter five… I like it.)

**Furyou**: No, it doesn't. I have not seen Constantine, but I have heard that it's about the end of the world. There is no eschatology here.

**Bright Star in the Sky**: Being in University, let me tell you something: some teachers are so completely involved in Academia that they have lost their ability to relate to the rest of the world. Luckily, this isn't the case here. He's not yelling at Ranma to stop CPR, just to stop swearing, because that isn't polite.

**Ninalee-chan**: As always, long reviews as questions force me to examine what the heck it is I'm writing, so I look forward to them. : )

In other news, I tried deleting all my temporary internet files and cookies to see if that would let me access new chapters and reviews, and it did nothing. If someone wants try IMing me a link to reviews (_looks at Margo_) to CiA or LR, it would be much appreciated to see if that works.

Anyway, read and review, and have a great weekend, and hopefully I will update CiA after this History and Historians examination!


	3. The Exception

Nihil Credo

Chapter Three: The Exception

There were really two exceptions to the idea that every team in the Bureau had a partnership consisting of one person being a psychic, and the other a fighter. Kakashi didn't count, because his partner had died. At one time, he had had a psychic partner, and he had been the fighter who had failed to protect him. The other group had three people. But there was only one partnership in which both individuals possessed physical prowess and psychic ability.

Sango Tora, and Akane Tendo, students of Kakashi, and the best junior team in the branch of Japan.

Akane Tendo was the sole inheritor of the Tendo School for Indiscriminate Grappling. She had begun training as soon as she had been old enough to walk. She was a decent student, always studying hard, but she enjoyed practicing martial arts more. As a result of such strenuous and constant practicing, her ability to visualize become clearer and clearer. Before each strike, she would visualize it, and channel the energy of her body into each strike. It wasn't very long before she could channel that same energy outside of her body, giving her a limited ability to change physical objects with her mind.

In a way, she had taught herself to be somewhat telekinetic.

Sango Tora was a special case indeed. She was the result of a combination of the Japanese and Indian IBSP departments twenty-one years ago while trying to catch a doppelganger demon which had fled from Japanese confinement and was trying to escape. They had managed to keep it isolated in India, and Sango's mother had gone over to make sure that this time the doppelganger would be eliminated and would not break free again.

Sango's mother never returned, but at the age of six, Kakashi brought back a ghost of a child, and had begun training her then and there.

In elementary school, she had met Akane Tendo, and their partnership was born.

* * *

"This is getting ridiculous," Sango complained, locking her bedroom door behind her. Akane was already lounging in her bed in the bottom bunk, her head buried under her pillow as she tried to forget the cat calls and offers that they had had that day from the male residence of their university. 

"We can't do our job with all of them lurking around us," she added. "Why couldn't Sesshomaru have gotten one of the senior male teams to come here or something?"

She didn't really mean it, though. If they caught the government-denied serial killer, then they would be one of the best teams in the branch. They might get a raise in pay, or better living conditions… who knew! Solving this case meant the world to Sango, but it especially meant a lot because she wanted to make Kakashi proud. The man had raised her since she had been six years old. More than anything, Sango wanted to make him proud, maybe even to be a better investigator than Kakashi…

The problem was that their investigation was being… held back. Sango and Akane had gotten all the physical evidence they could. They had memorized files and begun getting into the head of the victim, finding out who their friends were, who their enemies were. They had even gone so far as to look into research the person had been doing, wondering of maybe they had accidentally uncovered some kind of a conspiracy.

But with almost every turn, they encountered a man, and with almost every single man, they had encountered the phrase: "Why don't we discuss it over dinner?"

Sango had been in the Bureau longer than Akane had. She had been brought up to do anything—absolutely anything—to help with an investigation. She had no problem sacrificing humans or demons in order to protect herself. She had no problem with bribery or other unscrupulous methods. She didn't even have a problem with the idea of breaking and entering even though she knew that of she ever got caught the Bureau would deny her existence and she would be thrown in jail.

The one thing she had a problem with was with males. As far as Sango was concerned, they were troglodytes. They were walking piles of ungoverned hormones whose only purpose in life was to piss her off by proceeding to flirt with whatever vivacious female the may meet. It was all too often in her life they targeted her, and Sango was getting sick of it. Didn't they understand the words 'I don't want to date?'

Akane lifted her head from her pillow. "I think we're going to have to bite the bullet, Sango-chan. We're going to have to do it. We're going to have to go out with those guys. We can't find out anything more unless we do it."

"But…" she protested, her jaw lax at the very idea.

"Don't worry, Sango. We'll take the necessary precautions." Akane was already listing off the equipment they'd need in her head. She was the one who was good at espionage. Sango was the one better at infiltration and attack. Akane just had the imagination for creating the most ingenious traps. "We'll have our dates on different nights, that way the other person can be our backup. We'll get microphones and recorders to record everything. We'll run background checks on our dates. We'll take every precaution we can. And we'll choose each other's dates."

Sango was glad when her cell phone vibrated in her back pocket, interrupting Akane. She hurried to answer it, grabbing it like a godsend. "Hello!"

"Sango. Kakashi. Got a pen?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Take down this information."

When Sango turned off the cell phone, Akane was still talking to herself quietly, continuing to plan the dates. Sango nudged her with her foot as she climbed up to the top bunk. "Come on," she said. "We've got to get going. I'm driving."

"What? Where are we going?" Seeing that Sango was lifting up the ceiling tile over her bed to retrieve her weaponry, Akane grabbed her own from her own hiding spot. She checked to make sure she had bullets, and then slipped it into the holster she had hidden on her.

Sango checked her own weapons. Unlike Akane, she ignored the rules and chose not to carry the standard issue gun. Sango preferred knives. They were more easily hidden. She strapped on her wakazashi and then slipped her shirt on over it, moving with deceptive ease and skill. Every movement Sango ever made was precisely calculated, but executed with utter grace and composure. 'Besides,' she told herself as she replaced the ceiling tile. 'Bullets, even the special ones used by our bureau, wouldn't necessarily work against some of the demons out their. But nothing can live through decapitation.'

"We're going to the other university," Sango answered Akane, jumping down off the top bunk of their dorm room bed. "Our hunter decided to expand his territory again."

* * *

Sango explained everything as she sped down the highway towards Tokyo. What she didn't explain, Kakashi did when he called them on Akane's cell phone and finished their briefing. 

"Time is of the essence," he had told them. "You have to find the girl Eve before it's too late. We don't know how much warning the visions are giving us. It could be an hour, it could be a week. Find her. Find her and protect her and try to find out why this girl has been targeted by our killer."

As they pulled up to the university, they knew everything: about Miroku, about Eve, and they had gotten a mental layout of Tokyo U, including some of the places that Eve could be. They decided to start at her dorm room. There was a security check: the doors only opened if you had a key or were being buzzed in, but Akane quickly broke into the panel and made the buzzer sound. Sango held the door open for her as she put everything back, and then they proceeded upstairs.

Her bedroom was on the third floor of the dorm room. Luckily, the hallway was empty. In less then three minutes, Sango had gotten Eve's door open. They walked inside, and Sango walked right up to the single bed. Akane snooped a little bit, but it was more important to find her.

Kneeling by Eve's bed, Sango picked up the pillow and sniffed it. She sneezed, finding the trace scents of perfume and fruity shampoo. They made her nose itch. But underneath that, there was sweat, and that belonged to only one person. Sango closed her eyes, letting her mind memorize the scent. When she opened her eyes, she could practically see the scent hanging in the room like a violet cloud.

"I've got it. Let's go."

It was easy to pick out the freshest scents. Eve seemed to be a creature of habit. Most of the scent was heading in the direction of the washroom and the exit. The two detectives passed the washroom and proceeded down to the campus, following the scent. They followed it right to the Modern Germany room, where Eve had sat that morning writing a test. Sango continued to sniff the air, getting confused for a second as Eve's scent came and went, and went again. She had been there in the morning, and then it felt as if she had arrived back later in the day, hanging out front of the room before leaving again.

They began to backtrack their steps, proceeding more cautiously. Sango almost lost the trail when they reemerged on the campus field. Her eyes scanned the campus, looking for the violet haze that she'd seen in Eve's room. Akane let her be, stopping and asking students if they had seen Eve as they passed by students, giving Sango the chance to sort out the timeline of smells.

All the answers Akane had received were the same: "I haven't seen her since the exam this morning," or, "I haven't seen her since lunch." The one thing Akane had learned was that Eve had been alive at lunch.

She picked up the trail again, following it over a hill… and found herself looking at the medical building. Sango felt herself turn pale as she hollered for Akane. She sensed trouble, and she took off at a run at the medical building, Akane hot on her heels.

* * *

The medical building was dark. Of course, it was past ten o'clock. All the classes had been out of there for an hour or two. All that was left was the cleaning staff. Akane, as she broke into the locked building, wished that she had brought a flashlight. The building was dark and creepy, and the first thing Akane did was walk into a locker door. Her curses echoed down the dark hallway. 

"I can't see a thing!"

"Here, take my hand," Sango said. She reached out for Akane's body, and, finding her shoulder, her hand trailed down to find Akane's. "I can't see very well either, in all honesty. Everything is kind of shades of grey. But so long as I can smell my way there, we should be okay."

For how long they walked, Akane didn't know. They passed closed doors and lockers, and only once did they have to dart around a janitor. Akane also almost got them caught once when they passed by an open door and she saw a skeleton hanging nearby. She stiffled her scream, but in the quiet building, it sounded more like a gun shot. Luckily, by that time, they were on the third floor down, entering where the storage rooms were located. They hadn't seen any classrooms for a while. If it wasn't for the odd blue safety light, they would have been in total darkness. The only comfort to Akane was Sango's hand in hers.

Sango could see in the dark far better than any human could. And, as she had pointed out, all that really mattered was being able to smell. If they met any kind of trouble, Sango would be in the front with her daggers and her short sword, and she would kick Evil's ass before he could get out one of his annoying one-liners.

So when Sango began to tense up, her hand clinging more tightly to Akane's, the smaller girl began to worry. Sango was very rarely scared. Akane had seen Sango go through things she could never imagine, and Sango had come out stronger because of it. Sango was a fighter. She had seen people die in front of her, she had fought in knife fights and stared down a man with a gun and never showed a sign of being scared. She could see a lot of things without showing the slightly little bit of fear, remorse, or compassion. Sango was like stone.

And if a stone was scared, Akane felt like _she_ should be petrified.

"Sango?" she asked nervously.

Her friend's voice wavered, her 's' echoing in the moist hallway. "I smell blood."

In all rationality, smelling blood in a science building made sense, but in the dark building, it was the most frightening thing Sango could have said. Much to her horror, Akane began to smell it too. The air was filled with a heady, fetid scent that reeked of blood and excrement. The stench was horrible. When Sango began to shiver, she soon understood why.

Bugs.

She could hear flies. The quiet air, once only filled with their footsteps and shallow breathing, was quickly filling with the buzzing of flies beating their wings. In the quiet hallway, the sound had been multiplied. In the quiet floor three levels below the surface, it was doubly out of place. It sent shivers up and down Akane's spine.

Sango drew to a stop in front of a door. Her legs were shaking. Her skin felt like bolts of electric fear were jumping around randomly. The air was like ice. She was ready to bolt, but somehow, she stayed her ground. Her grip on Akane's hand tightened, and her voice sounded forced. "Let's go on the count of three, together, okay?"

"O… kay, Sango."

"One… Two… Three."

They kicked the door down. The buzzing increased when a horde of flies, disturbed at the sound, erupted into the air. Sango felt some land in her hair and nearly had a panic attack. The air that rushed by them was strangely stale, filled with a scent similar to that of rotting meat. Sango's shallow breathing was now high and uncontrolled, making her dizzy. Her stomach was rolling from the stench, the buzzing sound a roar in her ears. Her hand groped on the wall for a light switch. Flies evaded her hand, but barely. She could feel the brush of their hard bodies as she searched for the light switch. She found it…

"The only thing worse than knowing what's in the dark is not knowing in the dark," she comforted herself. Her words bounced off the walls, coming back to her distorted.

Akane was shaking her head in the darkness. Her hands clung to Sango's so tightly that her fingertips were numb. Her voice sounded childish. "Don't do it, Sango. Don't do it."

Sango ignored her.

She turned on the light.

* * *

**AN**: I apologize for the short length of this chapter. The following chapters should be longer… this one is just short, but hopefully eventful. I find that for some reason, I dislike the ambience in later parts of the chapter. I know how to write the ambience for fluff (yeah for sappy romance and lots of description about touch) but not for suspense. I thought, seeing as how it's dark, that I would try to focus more on what people can hear and feel. If anybody has any suggestions as to how I may improve scenes such as this in the future, please tell me. 

The responses to your reviews are brought to you by Aamalie, who was kind enough to copy and paste them for me. While I do have them all stored in my inbox, I will all too gladly admit that it's a mess and this is much easier.

**Siren**: Funny you should mention killing her off… (_nervous__ laughter_) You had to watch a vivisection? Ew. Please pardon any mistakes within this story then, as I am just going by made grade eleven rat dissection and applying it to what little I know about the human anatomy. Yes, hopefully Ranma will grow in character, but Miroku is still the main focus of the story, and Sango will be the main female character. And I thought that having Miroku trying to get into your pants would make up for what happens to poor Eve.

**HMPrune**: (_is in shock_) I? I, make Miroku needless suffer through every chapter? No, not every chapter… besides, I'll make it up to him.

**Hououza**: Thanks! Only one exam to go, and I am uploading instead of studying!

**Oboe**: (My that looks odd…) Did you mean Kakashi, Ranma, and Miroku, or is our favorite monk getting replaced by a certain masked ninja? And yes, I love all of those guys too. They are all just so…. (_drools__ and lies on the floor twitching_)

**Fireblade**: If you're really confused, feel free to email me and I will enlighten you. Other than that, you're kind of supposed to be confused. It is a mystery, after all, so there's supposed to be a certain level of "whaaa?" going on. And I also like that comment. I am a history major, after all…

**Tsuki**: Thank you. (_grins_)

**Aamalie**: If I ever get to be so good that you start getting strokes from cliffhangers, let me know and I'll pester you into being me beta reader so that you'll always know what's going on. (Now get back to doign square roots! You can do it!)

**Lily**: Um… I'm going to hide over here now…

As a friendly reminder: if you all throttle me, then I can't upload. Yes, it's another cliffhanger… I think they stop soon, however… think of the first four chapters as setting the mood: it sets the ambience and introduces most of the main characters.

And as another friendly disclaimer: I don't own the characters, but the plot is mine.

See you all when I update CiA!


	4. The Shame

Nihil Credo

Chapter Four: The Shame

During their training, they had seen a lot of bad things. They had seen things that no girl or boy of any age should see. Sango had watched news footage where burning buildings collapsed on people and she had seen war shots where men died. She had seen animals being killed for meat. She had seen JFK's head explode. She had seen death and pain and blood and guts so many times that in the end, it didn't matter anymore.

People died. It was a way of life, and nothing Sango could do could stop it, so why bother with emotions? Why should you feel pain? Why should you feel compassion for a dead man? Why should you cry over a body?

It was just a body. The soul was already gone.

Sango and Akane had learned to rejoice for death, because it was freedom. It was liberation from the material, dying and rotting world of Earth, and moving on to something greater.

It was called desensitization. It didn't always work. It hadn't worked much for Akane, but Sango had grabbed on to it and used it as a shield. Nothing got past the barrier which she had created around her heart to shield her from the brutal and violent world around her.

But this came close.

* * *

Sango could hear Akane vomiting behind her in the hallway. The smell was lost in the fetid air of the nearly empty room. Her eyes were distracted by the flies crawling along the walls and ceiling. That was when she noticed that the walls, the floor, and the ceiling were clean of blood. There had been no splash back. Killing people was messy, but there were only a few drops of blood here and there. 

It was almost like… Eve's blood had vanished when she had been cut open.

Sango took off her knapsack and began to take out her forensics kit. "I can handle this, Akane. You just keep an eye out for that janitor."

* * *

Akane didn't know how Sango could do it. The cadaver lay on an empty table. Flies crawled around angrily, furious that their meal had been disturbed. The angry hum of their restless wings filled the air. The body was a mess. The room smelled. And yet Sango patiently recorded everything, taking pictures and making notes, and she did it all without batting an eye. 

Sango was one in a million, that was for sure.

She knew that Sango pretended to be more heartless than she really was. She watched as Sango lifted a necklace from off around Eve's neck and deposited it in an evidence bag. Akane distracted herself by calling for backup. They needed to get the cadaver out of there before someone else came by. When she looked back, the shriveled eyes that had stared lifelessly at the ceiling were now closed peacefully.

Sango, she knew, still had an ounce of compassion in her, she just hid it very well.

* * *

After the backup had arrived, Sango and Akane were escorted back to HQ. Akane tried to get Sango to come with her to sleep as it was almost one am, but Sango was adamant about imputing her evidence into the computer first. Akane relented, and as a peace token, bought Sango a Coke before going to bed. It was the only way Akane could feel useful. Sango had done all that work, and was now processing it all by herself. All Akane had been able to do was cling to the safety of the wall against her back, vomit from the scene in front of her, and then feebly call for backup. Sango had done all the work. 

Sango was up till three am entering data into her laptop and uploading it into the Bureau's files, her Coke beside her. It remained untouched. Sango didn't feel like drinking it, though the thought behind it was nice. She looked over the evidence she had collected, namely the necklace she had found. Her hand itched when she held it, holding it up in the plastic evidence bag. There was something special about it, she was certain of that.

'I'm probably being stupid,' she thought, tossing the necklace back into her knapsack. 'It's just a rock. Rocks aren't anything special.'

She continued to type. Her eyes started hurting soon, but when it came time for Sango to enter into the computer the pictures she had taken of the room and the evidence and the body, her stomach rebelled. She ran to the washroom, throwing up violently. She was sick until she didn't have anything left, and even then her stomach refused to settle.

Dutifully, when her head had stopped throbbing and her body had stopped shaking, she returned to the computer. She put the Coke away, and chewed slowly on a piece of gum to control the nausea and take the acidic taste out of her mouth. She _would _get the report finished tonight.

She didn't want to hand the duty off to someone else just because her stomach didn't like what it saw.

When she went to bed at four am, she still hadn't shed a tear.

* * *

One thing in which Sango had always taken pride was how her body was like a machine. She was strong, and fast. She was superior to a human being in almost everyway. Her mind worked like a computer, and every day, she got up at six am to exercise her body. Even though she had only gotten two hours of sleep, Sango rose from the bed she used at the IBSP. 

But she didn't feel like exercising, so for once, Sango skipped it. She was tired and hungry, though she still didn't want to eat. She wasn't in shape for fighting, but she couldn't sleep either. Instead, Sango decided to take a walk. She aimlessly walked around the building, lost in her own thoughts. Her mind felt like a black hole. Whatever thoughts she had, she didn't even have time to register them until they were lost in the numbness of her mind.

'Self defense mechanism,' she was able to register. She was worried that she was going to start dwelling on the body that they had found the night before, so she simply avoided thinking at all.

By the time she was starting to feel a bit better, she found herself in the hospital wing. Remembering what Kakashi had said about the boy who had gotten the visions, she thought she would pay him a visit.

Amy was on duty. The blue haired girl was cleaning up files, lost in the flickering screen of her computer. Sango coughed to get her attention. When she saw who it was, the teenager smiled. "How are you, Sango? Are you here for a check up or…"

"I'm perfectly healthy, Amy. I'm actually here to see a boy. I don't know his name, though. It's Ferio's kid, the one who was having all the visions lately."

"Oh, him. He's not going to be much conversation for you, Sango. The poor boy's still asleep."

"Boy? Just how old is this kid? Is he a psychic protégé or something?"

Amy shook her head. She loaded up a tray with files and some needles, painkillers, and other things she was cleaning up. Amy passed Sango a tray of bottles filled with chemical names she could only trippingly pronounce. "Carry these for me, will you? Thanks, Sango. Actually, his name is Miroku. He's going to University. He's twenty-something…"

"Wait, you mean like…" Sango paused, wishing she could talk with her hands. Her hands, however, were full, and Amy was already walking down the hallway, unable to see her gestures even if she could make them. "You mean like the guy who's only ever completed the one mission of finding a lost _cat_? That guy? That guy is the one who's been having visions of _our_ case?"

"That's the one exactly," Amy chirped. Sango bitterly wondered how she could be so perky so early in the morning, and began to wonder if Amy was slipping some of the anti-depressants into her morning coffee. She stopped at first the nursing station and dropped off half her charts and equipment there. "The other half is for the nursing station at the end of the hallway. Miroku is between here and there, so I'll show you his room and then continue on."

"Okay, but why won't he be a good conservationist? Is he anti-social or…"

Amy stopped and turned around. She looked around nervously. Most of the wing was empty, and the few beds which were occupied all lay behind close doors, the people occupying them fast asleep. Amy leaned in close to Sango. Her voice was hushed. "Did anyone tell you what happens to him when he gets one of his visions?"

"No," she replied, her voice equally hushed. "Just that he sees what happens…"

She gripped Sango's arm and continued down the hallway, her voice still quiet. "It's not just that," she said. "His body can't handle it. No one's body could, I think. Sango, he doesn't just see it, he feels it, all from the perspective of the victim. It wreaks havoc on his body. He gets nosebleeds, vomiting, all that fun stuff. With this last one, his heart stopped twice. With the one he got before this one, he needed CPR. To make him go to sleep, we had to give him twice the amount of anti-insomnia pills we're supposed to give somebody, _and_ we have him on morphine. And you _know_ I dislike those kind of drugs and needles and IV's. I'd much prefer burning some herbs and making a broth and some cleansing crystals, but the human chemical method worked so much faster that we felt all those drugs were necessary to save his life."

Sango's mouth was open in horror. Amy pulled to a stop in front of a large window. "That's him there." She looked between Sango's shocked face and the sleeping man. "You can go in, if you want, just don't wake him. I'll leave you two alone. If you need me, just call." Amy lingered, however, looking nervous and shy. "Sango they say that you… you know… saw… _it_. How… how badly was…."

"Do you ever do that rat dissections in high school?" she asked coldly. There was a deadly edge to her voice, and her eyes had closed over. From the corner of her eye, she saw Amy nod, but yet she continued to explain. "The rat was dead when I got it, and too big to fit properly in the dissection tray. Rigor mortis had set in. I had to break the arms and legs to get it to lie flat. Then we had to tie the poor thing down. Then we cut. You cut from the bottom of the trachea to the abdomen, and peel back the skin and muscle tissue to the get at the inner cavity. We had to pin down the skin.

"When I did, I remember thinking how neatly everything was arranged. It was just like the diagrams: jejunum, ileum, cecum, appendix, rising colon, transcending colon, descending colon… it was all organized so very well. Then we had to ruin it. We had to take it out to get better access at the diaphragm. We cut through the diaphragm, and then we sawed through the rib cage. We had to break apart the rib cage, and there was the heart. It was… it was the smallest thing I had ever seen. From nose to tail, the rat was almost the length of my forearm, but the heart was the size of my pinky fingernail.

"Every detail of that little rat was perfect. I can still remember it clearly. It was the most amazing thing I had ever seen in my life." Sango took a deep breath. The clarity briefly turned to her face, and she turned to face Amy.

"She had no heart."

Amy, pale, nodded and walked away, leaving her alone with the glass window.

Returning to look at the man sleeping in the bed, she wondered how much of it he had been able to experience. When had she died? When had _Eve_ died? When had the numbness set in? When had Eve fought? Had she cursed her murderer? Had she screamed for help and called him names? Was that why she had been gagged? Had she been tied down to the table because she had been fighting?

She hoped that Eve had fought.

'And this man saw it all… I want to see his face.' From where she stood, all she could see was the waves of the heart monitor and the bag that stood beside him, the IV slowly feeding medicine into his body. Besides that, there was only lumps in the blue hospital sheets. She wanted to see the face of the man who had lived to be the voice of the dead.

Sango walked inside the room. The monitors beeped softly. She could hear his breathing from the doorway. The door shut behind her quietly, and she walked forward on silent feet. At first he looked small, and she had to remind herself that the man had needed enough pills to kill a horse just to put him to sleep. When she got close enough, she saw that he wasn't small at all, it was the bed and the wires that made him seem helpless.

His arms were resting by his side, and they were smooth, muscular arms. His hair was dark, looking a little blue in the hospital light, and it curled around his neck and broad shoulders. His shoulders were broad, and the blanket was low enough that she could see his pectoral muscles and the slightest hint of curled, coarse hair. His lips were parted, cracked from his shallow breathing. His skin looked flushed, his eyes gently closed. His dark lashes contrasted against his skin, and she smiled to herself when she saw that he needed a shave. Two earrings dangled from the ear closest to her. He didn't look like some little kid at all. He didn't look weak. He looked like a pirate.

Standing next to his bed, she wished she could rip away the wires which hooked into him and dash the monitors to pieces. He looked too weak with them on. He wasn't supposed to look weak. Sure, he was a bumbling idiot capable of only rescuing stray cats, but he had put up with something she couldn't possibly imagine. He _should_ look like a pirate, rather than some weak human being fed by machines.

'Besides,' she told herself, 'firemen rescue cats from trees. That doesn't make them less attractive, or less capable firefighters. In fact, it's actually kind of cute, guys who care about animals…' She smiled, despite herself, but it quickly wavered away.

Unable to stand a moment longer, she sat down on the bed next to him. She wished that she could run and cry, but she didn't have the strength to run from her emotions anymore. She was going to cry, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Sango patted her cheeks to dry them, not realizing that they hadn't started to flow yet. She reached out and gently took the hand laying lifelessly by her side.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I wished we had gotten there sooner. I wished that we had been able to stop it before you felt that, or that we had caught the person responsible so that you'd never have to do go through something like that again. God, I pray you won't have to go through that again. Nobody needs to see what we saw, let alone feel it. I'm so sorry, Miroku. I wished that I could have done something to help you…"

Now the tears came, feelings of helplessness and of pity, not for the poor girl whose tortured soul cried out for vengeance, but for the man lying in a hospital bed, incapacitated because _she_ hadn't been able to catch a killer. It was all her fault, and she couldn't even do anything to help alleviate the pain. She wished to god that she could have wiped his mind free of his memories or be there when he awoke to tell him that the killer had been thrown into the meridian trench, but she could do nothing.

Except cry.

She covered her face with her other hand, trying to hid her shame. Tears dripped off her chin. She took in a shuddering breath. She missed the way Miroku licked his lips. She missed the way his breathing changed because all she could hear was her own wrecked sobs.

His free hand suddenly covered hers. Sango whirled around to see him awake, his cracked lips pulled back into a charming smile. She had never thought to wonder what color his eyes were, and when she saw that they were a beautiful mixture of grey and blue, she fell in love with them. Everything about him screamed strength, sexuality, and being different. His face was that of a pirate's, his smile that of a charmer, and his eyes that of a bleeding heart.

He scared her. He was different, and unexpected. Like most people, Sango was afraid of things which were different. The irony of that situation didn't escape her notice.

She pulled her hand back and backed away from him, but she didn't get up. Miroku sat up, still smiling at her. He lifted one leg, leading his arm on it as he began to tear off the plugs which covered his chest—God he had a nice chest—and Sango looked away when he removed the IV in his arm.

"This is the second time in a row I've woken up feeling like the human pin cushion," he admitted to her. Freed from the cumbersome wires, he leaned forward a little more, his fingers gently brushing her cheek. Sango glared at him warningly, but he took no notice. All he could see was the tear stains on her cheeks. "But the first time I've woken up with a beautiful woman in the room, let alone a beautiful woman crying over me as if I were a man in a grave."

His hand pulled away and he winked at her. "Save your tears for someone else, princess. I'm not leaving until I find Eve and make sure that she's okay. And when I do, I'm taking her out to the movies, and to dinner, and I'm going to…" He was leaning back against the metal headboard of the hospital bed. He heard her sniffle and he stopped staring into space to turn to look at Sango. He looked nervous. "What's the matter? Why are you crying? Huh? Princess?"

"My name isn't 'Princess'," she said bitterly. "My name is Tora Sango, agent number 0079819." Her voice once again began sharper. "I was the one who found Eve's body."

* * *

For a moment, Miroku had been perfectly happy. It was hard no to feel happy when you wake up and an angel is standing above you, holding your hand none the less. He didn't remember everything that had happened, he didn't remember his vision, and he clung to the hope that maybe Eve had survived and was at HQ recuperating. 

Then the angel had spoken, and it had dashed all of his hopes. He found it hard to breathe. "Eve… She's dead?" he asked hoarsely. He looked shocked, and confused. When he heard the woman, Sango, sniffle, he reached over and patted her hand soothingly.  
"Now, now. Don't cry. It's not your fault, Miss Tora. You did the best you could. I've heard of you. You're one of our very best. If even you couldn't do anything to save Eve, then maybe it was fate, and it was meant to be." He patted her cheek comfortingly, and Sango moved away from the bed, out of the reach of his soothing hands. He stared after her curiously, watching her dry her cheeks and try to compose herself. She looked a little… angry.

But she was beautiful, he noted, when she was angry. Yes, Miroku was sad. Yes, he wished to go he had died and that Eve had survived. No, he hadn't accepted Eve's death at face value, nor would he be able to accept that Eve was dead for a long time, but he could still note a woman's beauty. It was a natural thing for him to do, and Sango _was_ beautiful, almost inhumanly so.

Her skin was not light. It was the color of cinnamon, a light and tanned brown. Her eyes were gently slanted and almond-shaped, but wide, giving her a look of innocence and youth. Her lashes were dark, as dark as the hair that cascaded down her back, a mass of tangles. Her eyes were brown, warm and inviting, flecked with the slightest hints of gold that danced and laughed at the center of her eyes. Her lips were soft and full, inviting. Her cheekbones were high, every contour of her body expressive and delicate and strong all at the same time.

She was… amazing.

"What are you staring at?" she snapped at him.

'Just my luck she also happens to be the PMS-Queen,' Miroku sighed to himself. He turned his shoulder to her and lay back down in bed. "Leave me alone," he told her sourly. "I'm going back to bed. Maybe this was all a dream. Maybe I'll wake up find out I'm actually having some horrible dream in the middle of that damned final exam. Just… go away."

Much to his relief, she did so. It wasn't all that long later, however, that Miroku wished she had stuck around a little bit longer. He wasn't ready to be alone. Alone was when the dreams came back, and the tears of grief came.

What good was having a power like seeing the future if you couldn't even save the life of your friend?

Miroku's one relief was that he'd be able to go and mourn and forgot about this whole thing. It wasn't his case.

It became his case one hour later when Kakashi and Ferio decided to have their teams join forces.

* * *

**AN**: Well, they say that when it rains, it pours, and once again the old adage is proved true as it has not only rained here for the past four days, but I have gone to having no job offers from having two, and for the life of me, I can't determine which one is the better offer. They'll both pay the same, but one if offering 15 hours, the other two or three shifts. Both are in retail… Once sounds better, but I don't want to find myself broke in summer because I was working twenty hour weeks…

Someone… please… make the decision for me and put me out of my misery. I hate being so tergiversated.

(New word of the year: tergiversate, verb, Latin origin… had to use it in class and guessed at it's meaning… I thought it meant something about a hard conversation. Luckily, it wasn't on the Latin exam… I was enthralled when I saw it. I could have broken down and cried tears of sheer joy.)

**Lily Thorne**: Congratulations on getting your modem fixed. The cliffhangers will teeter off while characters develop, so you can hold off on the poking for a little while.

**Siren**: The flies were supposed to creep you out. But don't worry. Just because you may be dead, it doesn't mean that Eve won't have a big plot impact. And I don't recall that CSI episode. It makes me sad. I miss CSI. BY the way, my friends introduced me to CSI: NY… can anyone else picture Miroku as that Steele, Stacks…. Whatever his name is. O.o

**Fireblade**: I don't really think that Sango is necessarily a feminist in this story… she may be in University, but as you will see, she can be fairly immature when dealing with men. I don't know why yet, so that will be the next thing I need to figure out… I just need to pick something I haven't done before.

**Hououza**: (_hugs_) Thank you for wishing me good luck with my exams so often. Marks are starting to come in now, and although I'm clearly not the school dunce either. And seeing as how it looks like I have a good chance of getting over an eighty in two other classes (God, thank you for inventing classical studies!) I might actually be able to get a scholarship next year. Which would kick _so much ass_ I can't even bother to explain it right now. Ew. And speaking of money reminds me that I need to phone the real estate's office…

**Evil Goddess**: (_hands you some Depends_) As I update weekly and no human could possibly hold it that long, I figured I should give you these. And um…. (_hands__ you some random male nurse_). There you go. And seeing as how your hands will be tied down, he can change them for you.

**Ninalee-chan**: Thank you. (_giggles_)

**Evil Elf Girl**: Because of the suspense. How can it be a suspense without a few cliffies not and again? And yes… Miroku is cool. I like this Miroku. Thus far, he's not as perverted as he usually is, but then, he's kind of… unconscious at this point. And yes, 'nihil' does mean nothing, but 'credo' is 'I believe' from credo, credere, credidi (if memory serves me right).

Till next week...


	5. The Autopsy

Nihil Credo

Chapter Five: The Autopsy

They all sat in Ferio's office. As the office had not been made to seat seven people, it was rather cramped. Sango hovered near the doorway, her face a perfect mask and her arms crossed defensively. Akane stood nearby, looking worriedly between her friend and eyeing the man leaning against the wall next to her. Ranma stood just like Sango, with his arms crossed and a rather arrogant, angry expression on his face. Ferio sat behind his desk, Fuu in a chair beside him looking soft and open. Kakashi stood in the shadows of the room, watching everything through his one visible, half-closed eye. Miroku sat front and center before the three senior members, still a little too weak to stand properly.

Sango noted that he still needed to shave.

Feeling her eyes on him, Miroku turned, and offer her a small smile of reassurance. Sango quickly averted her eyes, and he worried. Sure, he had been rejected before, but not like that. It wasn't some refusal about a half-serious request to share a bed or talk over a cup of coffee. It was a complete refusal to accept any kind of condolence or offer of kindness. It was a complete refusal of anything human Miroku could offer her.

"Will you quit eyeing me like a piece of meat?" Akane hissed at Ranma.

Ranma looked indifferent to her request. He merely shrugged, the muscles of his arms visibly moving under his red shirt. "I'm not eyeing anything. Besides, why would I eye some shapeless tomboy like you? The chick behind you is a hell of a lot cuter than you…"

Akane punched him. Before a fight could instigate, Fuu shouted an order to back down into all their minds. All four of them were startled, and the two young men were even more startled to hear Kakashi chuckling to himself.

"There will be no fighting between you four," Ferio told them sternly. He looked to each of them in turn. In turn, each other lowered their eyes to ground… except for Ranma and Sango. The first looked mad at being told what to do, and the second merely looked curious as to why. Ferio took no notice and continued.

"You four will not be _allowed_ to fight each other. Your two groups are being joined together to work peacefully inside a single branch. This is not some world-wide demon hunt. This is, pure and simple, the quest for a mad man. Each of you bring your own strengths to this hunt, and we need you to work together. Sango, Akane, both of you possess intellect, fighting spirit, and knowledge of the case from having worked on it for almost a year now. Miroku, you were linked to the victim. Now we need to determine why and use that mind of yours to get all the evidence we can.

"You will report to Kakashi, Fuu, and myself. You will all stay in the loop with each other. You will not be changing identities, but new equipment will be assigned to all four of you to help you stay in contact with one another. You…  
Ranma broke away from the wall. "What am I?"

"Pardon?" Ferio asked, a green eyebrow rising to blend in with his hair.

"You said that everyone here brings something to the team. What do I bring? I know that I'm not as smart as Miroku, but I'm a better fighter! You don't need me on this mission. This is grunt work. What am I supposed to do?"

"Be chopped liver?" Akane suggested with a smirk and a snicker.

He glared at her, and she immediately became quiet. "You're just lucky that I don't hit girls." He turned back to Ferio, and the others had to hide their smiles when Akane stuck out her tongue at him in silent retaliation.

Ferio opened his mouth to answer, but Fuu cut him off. "We need you because you are a unique individual, Ranma. As your own person, your experiences are unique to only you and help you have your own view of the world. We have very little evidence thus far. What we need are different views to examine what little evidence we have and to see things from different perspectives so that we can uncover the truth."

Ranma held his chin up proudly. He didn't have to be smart, he just had to think differently. Calming people down was one of Fuu's special talents. With her brain, she could easily solve just about any problem.

"What if we don't want to work together?" Akane demanded. Sango was still silent. "Sango and I don't take very well working with stupid young boys."

"Pardon me," Miroku replied, while Ranma looked ready to leap into another yelling match with Akane, "but we are not stupid young boys. We're men. And we are not stupid. Besides, you can't live in a bubble all your life. Eventually you're going to have to go out and learn how to interact with people of every gender, nationality, age, and so on, and so forth. So suck it up, tomboy. It's time to grow up."

Akane looked speechless. He couldn't read Sango's expression. Fuu just looked shocked that he had been so frank, but the men were all smiling encouragingly.

"Okay," Ferio said. "As I was about to say, you're dismissed. This is your investigation. Go out and agree on what you think you're going to do first. Split yourselves up anyway, or stay together… but don't go anywhere alone! This person is dangerous. I don't want to see any of you getting killed."

After they had left, Kakashi looked at the couple in front of him. "Are you sure that those two won't be dragging my girls down?"

The man with the green hair shrugged, holding his wife around the waist and watching them already break out into a semi-argument outside of his office door. "I may not have trained Ranma and Miroku as hard as you did Sango and Akane, but they _are_ good boys. They'll be just fine. Besides, I think they need to work with each other more than anything else."

* * *

Outside of the office door, Miroku was the first one to speak. He rubbed his jaw, feeling two day's worth of stubble. "The first thing I'm going to do is go and take a shower," he told them, "and shave."

"My god! Can you be any more vain?" Akane snapped. "We've all seen you like this, so you might as well start working anyway! Just stay downwind from everybody or something. Besides, we should go and see the body. They should be finishing up the autopsy soon."

"From what I've heard, it's not like we need to even perform an autopsy. The cause of death is fairly obvious, isn't it?" Ranma pointed out smugly.

"Oh really? Well then, why don't _you_ tell us what it is since you seem to know already!" Akane glared at him furiously, tapping her foot and waiting for an answer. She didn't notice that Miroku and Sango had started to look a little pale as soon as Eve's body had been mentioned.

Ranma didn't notice either. He merely stumbled over his words a moment before angrily blurting out: "Well, she didn't have any blood right? So isn't it obvious? She bled to death! People can't really live without blood, you know!"

Before Akane could make some kind of a smart comeback, Sango interrupted. "Look, I don't want to work with someone who looks and smells like he just crawled out from under a dumpster, okay?" Miroku tried to interrupt to point out it wasn't that bad, but she was continuing. "Ranma, Akane, you two go back to the campus. Find out anything else you can about Eve, through whatever means necessary. I don't give a damn if it's illegal or not. There has to be something to relate her to the other two victims. I want that connection found as soon as possible.

"While you two do that, we'll go and see to the autopsy, then start going over the crime scenes, comparing between the notes I took and what he has locked up in that brain of his. If we have time, we'll start going through the Bureau files, see if anyone in Eve's family has some kind of outstanding connection to people the Bureau's investigating. There has to be some motive for this murder.

"We'll meet up at nineteen hundred hours for supper somewhere, discuss things then. Just as long as I don't cook. I don't want to cook. Any questions?"

Miroku was stunned at how quickly Sango had taken control of the situation. Ranma looked mad at having a girl telling him what to do, but Akane was already nodding in agreement. Akane grabbed Ranma's shoulder.

"Come on. Let's go. You can drive. Maybe that will stop making you feel like chopped liver."

"No!" he protested. "Not yet. Why do we get the grunt work? Why don't you two take the leg work and we go see what's up at the morgue?" Ranma was looking Sango square in the eyes, and Miroku was proud to see that she wasn't even batting an eye at him. Sango was cool, calm, and collected, not letting Ranma's hot temper get to her.

Pausing to brush back her bangs, she then answered him. Sango didn't even blink as she stared at him. "We're going to go the morgue, because I'm the one who began to process the forensics on that case. I'm the one who found the body. I'm already prepared for what I'm going to see and hear. I'm dragging his sorry ass with me because he knows what she went through, so I'm hoping that maybe he too is also prepared for seeing what a body looks like after it has been cut open while still alive."

She took a moment to blink slowly, letting what she said sink into Ranma's brain. "Now then, if you want, we can trade jobs. Do you really feel like going and looking at a bunch of ribs right now, Ranma, or should we continue on with _my_ plan?"

* * *

It didn't take an idiot to figure out that Sango had a point. Ramma left peacefully with Akane, though he was grumbling to himself. Sango watched them go, her pretty face looking sour as she thought of having to see the body and go through crime scene photos again. Her stomach didn't want to be made sick again…

A worse thought was: 'What if I get sick in front of Miroku?' Sango didn't even want to think about it! He had already caught her crying. She was not going to show him another sign of weakness. She was Tora Sango. She was one of the best junior agent in not just the Japanese branch, but the entire eastern hemisphere. She had begun training for the job of finding killers and capturing them when she was six years old.

She was not going to show him another sign of weakness. She was….

"So where's your bedroom?" Miroku asked with a lecherous grin.

Sango felt a sudden desire to punch him. She arched an eyebrow and turned to face him, her hands still crossed. "My bedroom?" she repeated. Miroku was smart—she figured he had to be smart to get into university—so he should know that her tone was one of warning.

But, the strange thing was, it didn't seem to bother him at all. He just continued to smile at her, laughing to himself. Sango's angry visage became more honed, directing all her anger to Miroku. She didn't like being laughed at.

"I'm glad to see that you're still with us, rather than trying to bore holes in the back of Ranma's head. Is there some place I should meet you once I've had an opportunity to shower?" He sounded completely innocent and curious. Sango was relieved. Clearly, he hadn't been serious about following her to her bedroom. "Maybe downstairs in the morgue? Or would you like to get some breakfast, first?"

Sango looked down at her watch. "It's noon."

"It's never too late for breakfast!"

Rolling her eyes, Sango begun walking in the direction of the elevator. "We'll go upstairs to your place. You shower and change, and I'll wait in the common area for you. Then we'll go down to the morgue together."

Miroku followed her, hitting the button for the bedroom floor and leading her, though she pretty much knew the way. The Bureau was set up from the outside to look like a regular office building, and the floors were set up to look that way too, most of them. For those who worked for the IBSP, however, it was a completely different matter. They knew where all the hidden things were. They knew that the entire topmost floor was Sesshomaru's office. The floor below that was the housing for all the senior officers, and the floor below that was the level for all the junior officers. They were required to have a bedroom in the building in case work kept them away from home.

Just as the top of the building was different, so to was the bottom. The building ran thirteen levels underground. The last level was where they kept the demons and killers they caught, under heavy lock and key. Only the senior officers had the jurisdiction to go there. Below ground there was also the morgue, the training ground, and Miroku's personal favorite level: the Bond level. The junior officers joking called it that because that was the level where all their equipment was stored. When your senior officer gave you a permit to go to the Bond level and get a new gun, cell phone, or some other new gadget, it made you feel like a kid in a candy store.

The elevator beeped and they stepped off. Miroku watched Sango apprehensively as she walked down the hallway. She moved gracefully, her eyes focused ahead and her arms still crossed… it only accented her nice butt and the sway of her hips, as far as he was concerned. She moved like a snake. She was cold, and bitchy, and he didn't like her attitude.

Miroku, in fact, didn't like it at all.

"You didn't have to be so coarse with Ranma," Miroku said, stopping. Sango stopped too, looking at him. He felt like her brown eyes were looking right past him. "He's got a rough appearance on the outside, but he has feelings deep down too, you know. He was just upset because you're acting like you're the leader of our group when no one has asked you to be."

Sango caught him off. "Someone has to be able to make decisions around here. You certainly weren't making any, so I did. I wasn't trying to overstep my bounds, but we do need leadership, and I'm the one here who has the most training."

"Be that as it may, you don't have to act like a cold hearted bitch whenever someone questions you. People ask to learn, not to be rude, no matter how rude he may sound. Ranma was just curious. And you may have the longest amount of training, but that means shit. We still went through training too, and no amount of training made you stop being able to shed a tear or two in guilt, so don't start…"

Sango hissed. Miroku was surprised. It was a real hiss, like the ones he had heard cats gives dogs when they got to close. Sango was closer to him, her face close to his, her finger stabbing into his chest. He back up until he hit the wall. "Don't _ever_ bring that up again," she told him slowly.

"Why not?" he retorted. Miroku wasn't afraid her; caught off guard, maybe, but not afraid. "It's a natural response."

"I don't cry," she said sternly, every word denying the fact wholeheartedly.

He stared down at her. Her face was inches from hers. She looked positively furious… and pretty. Miroku merely smirked, running his fingers through his hair and trying not to be disgusted when his hair felt greasy. He couldn't wait to get in that shower.

"You don't like me much, do you Sango?" he asked, his blue eyes slowly drifting closed. Sango's derisive snort was her answer. He opened his eyes again, his hands stiffly at his side, yet somehow, he seemed to be pulling her in closer. His eyes were staring into hers, his lips were smiling, his body was warm and comfortable… even the stubble looked somehow charming. "But," he said slowly, "you don't have a reason to hate me. You don't even know me."

"What's your point?" Sango demanded, crossing her arms again. His questions were keeping her defensive.

"My point is," he purred, leaning forward a little, "that it's uncalled for. That, and also that you've got to be the most obstinate person I've ever met. Everything has to be your way, doesn't it? Everything has to be clear cut. Everything is either black or white, with no grey areas in between. If you don't like me, then you must hate me. So you hate me even though I've given you no reason to."

"I think you're starting to give me a reason." Sango didn't like the way he was speaking to her. He was talking about her like he knew her, and they had only just met. What frightened her was that everything Miroku was saying was correct.

Miroku suddenly grinned again. Sango was beginning to think that smile—as charming as it could be—was too arrogant as lecherous to ever be a sign of something good about to happen. "Sango, you have hit the nail on the head." If she wanted to hate him, Miroku was more than happy to give her a reason for hating him.

He grabbed her around her torso suddenly. Sango managed to get out a sound of protest and tried to push him away before she found herself pressed against him, her arms trapped by the weight of his body. The sound was muffled when his lips covered hers. Sango had been kissed before—and now she remembered why she hated it. His lips were coarse against her, his breath was horrible, his cheeks scratched her cheek, and he was completely demanding and insincere and aggressive and…

And, god she hated men!

Sango's protest almost immediately turned into a growl. She was ready to bit off his tongue if he went any further. And then he did… when his lower hand suddenly groped her before he released her. He didn't even have the common courtesy to set her back on her feet. Instead, he let her catch herself, smiling arrogantly.

Her response was to glare at him. Then, before she even knew what she was doing, her hand connected with his cheek and the sound of a resentful slap was resounding in the hallway. A duplicate of Sango's handprint was already visible on Miroku's cheek. Her slap had been sufficient enough to force him to look another way from the impact.

She immediately felt bad, and opened her mouth to apologize. He had been wrong to grab her like that—hell, it was verging on assault, if not sexual assault already—but she lowered herself to his level by slapping him, and that had been uncalled for.

His voice, however, stopped her. Miroku slowly turned to look at her. His face was stone-like, impassive and sculpted with ice. His voice was just as cold and detached. "And now you have a reason for hating me."

He continued to walk down the hallway, leaving her there and walking into his bedroom. Sango, after a moment of angry hesitation, followed. He had left the bedroom door open. She closed it behind her and flicked on the bedroom light, then she wished she hadn't. The imprint on his cheek was rather red, and she winced when she saw it. She had to remember that she was supposed to control herself and keep herself from striking somebody with all her strength!

He finished piling up some clothes. He didn't look at her. In fact, she noted, he hadn't even acknowledge that she had followed him until he spoke. "I'm going to go and take my shower and shave. I'll be back out in twenty minutes or so. Feel free to make yourself comfortable. There's a stack of books hidden in the closet. Feel free to grab one if you get bored."

Leaving her as he disappeared into the washroom, Sango looked around. The bedroom was small. All the junior bedrooms were small. They were the size of single rooms in their college dorms: enough to feel trapped, but not claustrophobic. The walls were off-white, but Miroku had posters hung up with sticky-tac, including one of Michelangelo's David. Most of them seemed to be art posters. She was a little surprised to find a little shrine in his room. Sango didn't go near that. It wasn't her business. But she did get close enough to it to smell it. It smelled wonderful.

The furniture was all the standard furniture for their dorms. However, Sango couldn't help but smile when she saw that the bed had dinosaur sheets on them. It felt like the room of a fourteen year old boy with the treasures of university student placed here and there: a bookmark on the floor, exam sheets scattered on the desk, and a stack of textbooks on the night stand.

Sango let the tips of her fingers run over the books stacked on the night stand, reading the titles. _Religion and the Buddha… The Sevenfold Path… The History of __Tibet__… Modern __Germany__… Religion and Language: The Intertexuality of Sacred Scripts_… She had to admit that they were interesting titles, at the very least. Sango guessed that maybe he was focusing on religion and history, or possibly religion and language. Either way, they were all topics she didn't find quite that fascinating. Sango's preferred area was genetics. Now _that_ was a fascinating subject, and she loved the labs. She loved being able to go and work with her hands…

Which might also explain why she had taken a few courses in art for no reason what so ever. She couldn't draw worth a damn. She couldn't sculpt enough to save her life, but it was relaxing.

The only book in the stack not a textbook was at the very bottom. Curious, Sango pulled it out very carefully. The water was just starting in the washroom. Sango glanced up to see that he had shut the door. Maybe he wasn't that perverted… She succeeded in pulling the book out.

_Faust_.

The man was reading about hell and about making deals with the devil. He was trying to become a theologian. He had art hanging in his room, unlike posters of half naked girls or cars he could have put up. The room spoke of order, duty, childhood, and masculinity. Yes, somehow the off-white room seemed very masculine.

Sango arched an eyebrow, beginning to read Christopher Marlowe. Miroku was certainly a very… odd individual. Aggressive, egotistical, yet also at times friendly and compassionate, and throughout both, he was intelligent and quick-witted. Maybe he had some kind of personality disorder or something to account for his odd mood swings…

The book was very good. She didn't even notice when the water turned off. It took Miroku's voice calling her name to realize that he was trying to get her attention. Sango jerked herself back into reality. She found Miroku leaning his head out of the washroom. His dark hair was wet and stuck out at odd angles. His face was red from the heat of shower—which secretly made her happy because it meant she couldn't see the handprint on his face. He looked like an imp… and one that seemed worried about her.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I asked you what Fuu told you," he repeated. Caught off guard, he watched as her eyes faltered. She looked very guilty for a moment, but the lower half of her face, was still stuck in an expression of seriousness. He very slowly repeated his question.

Wondering how he knew Fuu had given them all special orders, she didn't lie to him. Sango knew when she had gotten caught, and he was her partner. It wasn't like he was a bad guy who was going to torture her for information. He deserved to be told the truth.

"She told us all that one of us had to be with you at all times to make sure that nothing happened to you." Miroku looked puzzled, and she was surprised. "Didn't they tell you about your visions? With the last two, you stopped breathing and your heart stopped a couple of times. If you get another vision, then she wants us to be there with you to keep you from dying on us. But I'm sure you won't get another vision."

"Why?" Miroku asked, almost sounding bitter. He reappeared in the bedroom, doing up the last button on his dress shirt. He didn't bother tucking it into his jeans. "Are you saying that my powers had a one shot go at this and that now I'm not useful to you?"

Sango pursed her lips. That wasn't what she had meant at all. Miroku was being very defensive, but she could understand why. Both of them were on guard, and Miroku wanted to capture this killer as much as Sango did. He was in it for personal gain to get closure for Eve's life, and he also wanted the glory. She was certain he did. The man had been getting junk jobs his entire career and failing at most of them, and now he was handed a top-secret mission on a silver platter and he wanted to solve it.

"I didn't mean it like that. I meant that you had a connection to Eve, for whatever reason. You were connected to her death, not to the killer. Therefore, it is very unlikely that you'll have another vision like that because you have no further connection to the victims. Unless all of them happen to be girls you flirted with during exams. Ranma said…"

Miroku simply stared at her, and Sango mentally kicked herself. She'd accidentally reminded him of his feelings for Eve, and had done so without softening the blow. She'd reminded him his girl-friend was dead and that he was useless to her in one swift move.

She swore she was an idiot at times.

Miroku looked around for something, his face worried. Sango said nothing as she closed her book and put it away.

"You looking for something?"

He nodded and then snapped his fingers. He brushed by her to get to his night stand. His aftershave hung in the air. Sango liked the scent of it. She could pick up some of the smaller ingredients in it. It smelled home made, and tailored just for him. She watched as he got a pair of glasses from his nightstand and tucked them into the pocket of his shirt.

"Glasses?" she asked, sounding amused as he tossed his wallet, keys, and cell phone into his pockets.

"Yeah," he bitterly admitted. "I need them for reading. Come on. Let's go to the morgue."

* * *

When they got to the office, they found Rukia sitting in a chair with a drinking box. The senior member of the IBSP was apparently trying to stab her straw into the drinking box and failing. Miroku grinned at the sight of the short officer with her legs braced on the desk in front of her, the box in one hand laying over her lap, and her tongue sticking out as the tried to concentrate and punch the hole perfectly.

"Rukia," Sango greeted, and the officer jumped up in surprise.

Miroku's grinned widened. He'd forgotten that the desk came up to just under her breasts, whereas for most people it would have come up to their waist. She was so _short_. And she was cute, too, which was part of the reason Miroku could stand the morgue. Her eyes were large and ocean blue, her eyebrows brought forward a little which gave her a look of sharp-witted anger even when she was in a good mood. Her black hair clung to her face, but flipped out at the bottom, and a few hairs always had a tendency to lay over the bridge of her nose.

"I was wondering when you were going to get here." Rukia's surprise had fled quickly, leaving behind the down-to-business attitude for which she was famous. Many people in the bureau had claimed that the female mortician was completely heartless when they saw her bluntness when dealing with autopsies, but they were misguided. Miroku knew that Rukia had a heart beating in her little body, and it was that heart which kept her from becoming emotionally involved.

Furthermore, it kept her partner, Ichigo, from also becoming emotionally involved. Rukia did all the talking during these discussions. Ichigo generally just hung back, listening and adding in his two cents now and then. Rumor had it that the last time Ichigo had become emotionally involved, he had almost brought the building down trying to exorcise the demon that had killed the little girl he had had to process.

Sometimes, Miroku thought it was true. Ichigo was calm and carefree and very laid back at first, but there was a tremendous power lurking under Ichigo's calm exterior, and physically, there was more sleek muscle lining Ichigo than he had seen on Ferio and Kakashi combined.

The two morticians had become something like a living legend. No one was quite sure of who they were, how they had gotten started at the bureau, or what exactly their powers were. Many people even suspected that Ichigo and Rukia had been the founders of the Japanese IBSP, but that was a rumor Miroku doubted.

"You're much later than I thought you would be." She pushed past the outer metal doors and led them to the work room.

"He wanted to shower," Sango said sourly, gesturing to Miroku with her thumb.

He grinned in return. "Well, I didn't want to come down here and see a beautiful woman smelling the way I did," he laughed. The sound seemed forced against the metal walls of the morgue. Both women didn't seem pleased at his attempt at being suave, or comedic. Miroku rolled his eyes and lapsed into silence.

"Stop talking about Eve like that," Sango hissed, her glare deadly.

Miroku glared back. "I was talking bout Rukia…"

No one understood his humor.

Walking into the room with Eve's body, Rukia made no move to prepare them for what they were going to see. Sango managed to keep her cool when she saw the body laying there, but Miroku looked pale and ready to be ill. He kept his eyes away from the body.

"You brought in an… interesting piece for us. I suppose that this is somehow related to the one we fished out of the river awhile ago?" Rukia watched as Sango nodded. She tossed both of them pairs of rubber gloves to wear, as well as a hair net for Sango and smelling salts for Miroku. The man rolled his eyes when he saw them, but he subtly took a sniff anyway.

Her gloves pulled on, she began to walk them through her report. "The subject's name is Eve. Twenty-two years of age, and female. Any guesses for cause of death?"

Miroku sniffled, rubbing his nose from the irritable scent of the smelling salts. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

Rukia acted like she didn't hear him. "Despite what the corpse may look like, the cause of death is asphyxiation."

Both of the junior agents were visibly surprised at this information. Miroku because of what he had experienced—he had felt himself being cut and tied down, not choked—and Sango because she had been the first to see Eve's body and had assumed she had bled out.

"Not choking," Rukia continued, as if reading their minds. "She passed out when oxygen stopped flowing to her brain, and then the brain died from there. Most of this was done post-mortem."

Sango's eyes darted to Miroku at this information, taking him his reaction. To his credit, he was staring levelly ahead, his eyes now and then slipping to Eve's face. He was ashen white, but he was standing strong and listening closely to every word that was said. He showed no signs of planning to ask Rukia how Eve had died before experiencing what he had felt and why _he_ had felt it instead, which Sango approved. Rukia may have been a senior officer, but she was still just a mortician, with little or no knowledge into empathy and divination.

When Sango looked back, she found that Rukia was holding up a diagram of what she and Ichigo thought had happened. She stared at it, wondering how a fully grown woman could use crayons and draw anthropomorphic dissection tools and stick figures with blocky clothing.

"We read Sango's report, and were surprised to find out that there was no blood found on the crime scene. Nor was there any trace of blood having been there. So we began wondering to ourselves where the blood had gone to." Rukia flipped to the next picture, showing herself and her red-headed partner with thought bubbles hanging over their heads. "So we went over the body again, this time looking for a way for the blood to get out of the body. We found these."

Putting down the pictures, she picked up one arm and held it out for them to see. Eve's flesh was now pale, almost translucent. Miroku was surprised to see that her skin had a few freckles on it. His eyes darted to her face, where he saw freckles across her nose. He had never noticed them before. She had always been so lively that she had seemed to glow at times, and she had seemed perfect and warm.

On the inside of her elbow, there was a little red dot. It was almost unnoticeable, but with her pale skin it was quite visible. Miroku looked down at his own arm, and took another sniff from the bottle. "An IV mark…" He approached the metal table, slipping on a glove and tenderly touching the small wound. "I've become too familiar with them myself. Does she have one on the other side?"

Rukia nodded. "Anywhere where there was a vein or an artery near the surface, there's pretty much a small mark for the IV. She had all the blood drained from her prior to being dissected. We tried processing what we found in her stomach to see if she had been drugged, but they haven't come back yet. The lab's getting a little far behind. Other than that, all we can tell you at this point is that she is missing a few internal organs. Most obviously missing is her heart. Her liver is also missing. All of her entrails are in complete disarray. They were removed meticulously…"

Miroku stopped listening at that point, his fingers still gently holding Eve's arm. His hands slowly slipped down to her hands. Noticing it, the way he was looking at her face soothingly and her hand in his, Sango wondered if maybe her newest partner had gone mad and was offering comfort to a dead body.

"…but they seemed to have been put back in rather haphazardly, like the job was rushed."

"What are these marks around her mouth?" Mirouk inquired.

"Chafe marks, from fighting against a gag," Rukia answered without batting an eye.

"She was tied down too."

'So that's what he was doing holding her hand,' Sango realized. She began to feel a little bit of respect for Miroku… or maybe a little bit _more_ respect. He was performing his own small autopsy on the body of one of his friends. Miroku was… amazing. Sango spoke up, her voice wavering. "Did Eve… I mean, did she fight back at all?"

Rukia held Sango's gaze a moment, and the nodded. "Like a tiger."

Sango was glad.

"But we checked underneath her fingernails… her fingernails were clipped and cleaned. There's no DNA left of her attacker."

* * *

They were back on the elevator within the hour, heading up to go and look at the pictures of the crime scene. Sango felt exasperated. They didn't have any clues to use. The forensics team hadn't even been able to get so much as a footprint from the crime scene… except for Sango's. She sighed, pressing the button for the residence level. If they were going to talk and look at disturbing pictures, Sango wanted to be somewhere safe when she did so, and that meant her bedroom.

"Well, that was a waste of time."

"Was it?" Miroku's voice was tense, but also somehow… absent. He was off in his own world, where he was concentrating on something, and only paying her a certain amount of attention. "We're starting to get a profile down." He looked at her, but his vacant eyes already confirmed what she had thought.

"Because someone used an IV? Great. That only rules out everybody who doesn't know how to use a needle," she snorted.

Miroku, however, was already starting to nod, agreeing with her sarcastic comment. "Precisely. It must be someone educated, because it requires knowledge of human anatomy to do that to someone and not make a mess. They knew exactly what they wanted, and they took it. Although, if this isn't the first case, then it's likely they were also teaching themselves.

"It has to be someone who can use a needle and a scalpel. Don't ask. I know it was a scalpel, okay? That only goes to increase the likelihood that it's someone who has a history in biology of some kind. They also have to have some knowledge of forensics. They knew enough not to leave a trace of themselves anywhere, and they knew enough to clean up after themselves."

"That's circumstantial," Sango sneered, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Any idiot with a high school education who watched too much CSI could do that."

"And I think that there's more than one of them," he finished.

That comment took Sango by surprise. Her arms crossed as she leaned on the wall of the elevator, she stared at him, her mouth tight-lipped. "What makes you say that?"

"As soon as I told them who the victim was, they sent you two out." His throat tightened, betraying his emotions beneath his calm façade. "It wasn't enough. Eve still died, and the killer had enough time to be able to… to drain her blood, to do that to her, and clean up after himself and make a getaway. That's not enough time. There's not enough time to be able to do all of that. But if there were two of them, one person draining the blood or cut… cutting her, and the other one cleaning up behind them…"

"So," Sango finished, his point clear. She wasn't going to make him continue his explanation anymore. It was obvious that it was hard for Miroku. Sango didn't want to hear it, anyway. "Bonnie and Clyde meet Jack the Ripper, huh?"

Miroku didn't laugh at her pathetic attempt at a joke.

No one understood her humor.

* * *

**AN**: Nothing much to say today… except don't forget to phone grandma's and mom's, etc. And don't let me forget, either. Also, Rukia and Ichigo are characters from Bleach (which I highly recommend) but as I am new to this addiction myself, I don't know who the creator of it is. But… needless to say: they aren't mine.

**Hououza**: I now work for The Gap. They're the only ones who wanted to hire me. I guess that my second interview at Reitman's wasn't that impressive. I feel… not me.

**Aamalie**: Yes, it is Amy from Sailor Moon (therefore Amy is not my character and belongs Naoko Takaeuchi (I think… don't have my mangas here so I can't check!). And it was anticlimactic in that it didn't have a cliffhanger. You're right. I can do cliffhangers all the time after all! (_grins_)

**Fireblade**: All girls school…. You know, that makes sense! (_scribbles__ a note somewhere_)

Siren: Actually, I don't get to watch CSI at all. I don't… wait… illegal downloading! Yes! It will solve all my problems! Sweet! Sango doesn't normally convulse when the crowds are gone. If you ask me, she'd rather take a long soak in the tub when the day is done, but she is undergoing a little more than the average stress for a girl her age. So it's no wonder she needs to break down now and then… it's just bad luck that she got caught.

**Moonyme**: Just thinking about the future. Nothing to really worry about.

**MistressofHeaven**: Ranma and Akane are both from Ranma ½ also by Rumiko Takahashi. Great series… long, but funny. And Miroku is a pervert… but it won't be revealed that much. He's toned down right now because he's in mourning, but from the first chapter, you were supposed to be able to get an idea of what he's really like… what with stealing Eve's undies and all.

**Buddym**: Just financial problems. It comes with the territory.

**Ninalee-chan**: I only have up to the beginning of chapter twelve planned out, but don't worry. They'll be plenty of jerking around come the later chapters. The summary is just to intrigue people, after all, but I do plan on making it look at some point like Sango is the killer. (Sorry to ruin it on you, but no, it's not Sango… _grins_) As for the necklace… I have a thing for red herrings.

See y'all next week!


	6. The Sneaking

Nihil Credo

Chapter Six: The Sneaking

Ranma and Akane snuck into Eve's rooms rather easily. Akane had only done so the night before, after all. They went through the room from top to bottom, but they had found nothing to link Eve to the other victims. Ranma and Akane had hardly even spoken. They had worked quickly and efficiently, but with very few words between them.

"Who were the other victims?" He had finally gotten up his courage to speak to Akane, trusting that the cute girl wasn't going to bite off his head. He heard her pause as he continued to look through the bookcase. Ranma turned to look over his shoulder and found her sitting on her bed, a photo album open on her lap. She didn't even look like she was working… "Well?" he pressed, impatient.

Her surprised expression became irritated, her lips pursing. For a moment Akane considered not answering him, but she conceded. After all, he was her partner now, as much as she didn't like him.

"The first body is still unidentified. The second belonged to a woman name Yuuko. She was a student at Tokyo University studying philosophy. She had some of the best grades in her class, but many seemed to have considered her a bit of a teacher's pet. She got on the bad side of the tracks a lot, had a tendency to smoke illegal substances, but now that she's dead people are afraid to talk ill about her. Sango and I are having a hard time investigating her. We also know, from going through her room, that she was a witch."

Ranma thought for a moment that he thought he hadn't heard her correctly. "A what?"

"Yuuko was a witch," Akane repeated carefully. She turned a page in the photo album, studying the faces and seeing if there was anyone in them whom she could recognize from the faces of people Yuuko had known. Ranma still hadn't responded and she glanced up. "You don't believe me?"

He shrugged, and went back to looking through the bookcase, continuing to talk to her over his shoulder. "I can believe in a lot of things. I can believe that the world is a globe without ever seeing it with my own eyes. I can understand that one day my heart will stop beating and I won't understand why. I can understand how my motorcycle gets me from point a to point b without knowing how the engine works, but magic is something I don't believe in."

Her eyes narrowed a little. Akane held her hand out to the bookcase, concentrating her magic. She visualized it in her mind's eye, seeing ribbons and laces and chains tried to everything to the room, and she held the end of them all in her hand. She selected the chain for the book that Ranma was holding, and then pulled it mentally. She smiled as the book whooshed out of his hands and he gasped in surprise. His wide eyes followed it across the room as it floated over to her awaiting hand.

"How… how…" His inability to use words properly stopped when she floated her book back to him and continued her job. "That's not magic. That's, like, telekinesis or something. Magic is something indifferent. You know, like in movies, where some lady with a wart bent over a cauldron and throwing freaky things into it. That kind of magic doesn't exist."

"Sango and I _will_ find the coven that Yuuko belonged to, and when we do, we'll be sure to tell them that." Akane clapped herself in the back for making Ranma speechless again. "So, does Yuuko sound anything like your Eve?"

Ranma shook his head. "Eve's a history major, not philosophy. She isn't the best in her class. She's struggling, though she's a hell of a lot better off than I am. Nor is she a witch. If you hadn't noticed, there's no upside down crosses or pentagrams or spell books or cauldrons in the room. Hell, there's not even a candle. Are you almost done that book?"

Akane shut the book and closed it. She put it back on the shelf and then looked up at Ranma. "Yeah, I'm done here. We should get going. We're supposed to meet them for dinner soon. Want to phone them and suggest that we go out for okinomiyaki? I fee like having something smothered in sauce."

* * *

"I'm not going to be much help," Miroku said as he reclined on Sango's bed. He had taken the liberty of claiming the bed the moment he had gotten to Sango's room. It was just one more charming attempt at making himself out to be a bastard.

Sango had taken her chair and was sitting at her desk, her hands folded in her lap and her back straight as she regarded him. He was reclining on her bed contemptuously, with one hand braced behind his head and other folded across his stomach, one leg bend and the other hanging over the side of the bed. His muscles were tense, belying the relaxed pose. He was ready to leap or spring at any moment. With his disorderly hair, however, it was also rather suggestive, a handsome man reclining on a bed. However, he wasn't trying to be sensual. He looked… upset, almost like he was nervous that he wasn't going to be much help.

"Why not?" Sango asked.

"Because," he replied, regarding her with cool eyes. "I couldn't see anything. There was a bright light above me. It blinded me. I couldn't see anything else."

Sango's expression became puzzled. "But you said that you saw her necklace, and that was what allowed you to know who it was."

"I know. I opened my eyes and looked down. I could see my body, but it's odd because I don't remember looking down and seeing breasts, or my chest, or anything, just that I saw this necklace, and then I continued looking up and there was a bright light above me, and it blinded me. I couldn't see anything else. I don't even know if I looked away. The white light was everywhere."

"Could you hear anything?" Sango inquired. Given their positions, she was starting to feel like his psychiatrist.

Miroku at first shook his head no, and then paused. "Well, I could hear something, but I don't really remember it now. I could hear screaming. I don't know whose it was. If Eve was gagged, I doubt it could have been hers. Unless I was inside her mind and I could hear her screaming inside her mind. It might have even been my own."

Sango next question was slightly slow, as she was trying to tread lightly. "What… could you feel anything important?"

He thought for a moment, reflecting on his vision. "I felt bonds keeping me tied down. I couldn't feel the IV's. Beyond that, I felt a knife. Given the body, it was probably a scalpel. It cut evenly… not like a serrated knife where you have to saw it." His voice was somehow steady, but his face was slowly becoming paler.

Sango couldn't put him through reliving that part of his vision anymore. She quickly jumped topics. "Could you smell anything?"

"No… wait. Blood…" His voice trailed off and his face became puzzled as he tried to remember. He had smelled something… something that the Weimar Republic had triggered… "Wine. I could smell wine. I don't know why. It's not like we found wine glasses or anything…"

"But at least it's something to look for. Maybe we have some disgruntled demon med student living in a winery or something."

Miroku thought that Sango's voice sounded a little off, but he didn't think on it. His comment about the crime scene had probably just dragged up some bad memories for her, the same way her question had made him feel cold and defensive.

Concerned, he sat up on her bed and reached out a hand to pat her knee in silent condolence and support. His fingertips brushed the rough fabric of her jeans before she quickly turned away. Sango's back was to him as she typed a few notes on the keyboard of her laptop, her shining dark hair cascading over the light fabric of the wooden chair. She sighed and glanced at her watch as he watched the way her hair caught the light from the lamp on the night stand. Sango was… stunning.

"It's late. We should… cell phone." She reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone. "Tora here. Hi, Saotome-sama. Yes, it's me. What do you mean I'm being polite for a change? Shut up… here, talk to Miroku. I don't want to deal with you."

Sango turned slightly and tossed Miroku the phone with a disgruntled look. She had tried to take Miroku's advice and been polite—normally Sango was well-known for being _too_ polite—and he had insulted her. Sango hated men.

"Hi, Ranma. Sango? No, actually. She seemed to be in a pretty good mood. I bet she had her phone on vibrate and she just got her panties in a twist now."

Sango pounded her keys on the keyboard.

She really hated men. _Two_ men in particular.

"Okinomyaki? Sure. That one? Yeah, don't worry. It's close. Sango and I will walk. We should sleep over at HQ anyway, just because we'll probably have an early morning tomorrow. Yeah. See ya there." He hung up the phone and handed it back to Sango.

"Okinomyaki?" she repeated, accepting her cell phone back. She put it on ringer before slipping it back into her pocket. Sango didn't want to hear him teasing her about having it on vibrate again. She didn't want to hear it from him again in her whole life, if she could help it. "The one that's down the street?"

Miroku nodded, sliding off of the bed and offering Sango his hand. Sango ignored it as she shut down her laptop. Eventually he got the clue and retracted his hand, letting her get up for herself. He watched, leaning on the wall, as she packed her laptop in a brown brief case and threw on a blazer against the cooler night air. She had gone from looking like a student to look like the professor.

"Why do you dress like that?" he inquired curiously. When Sango gave him a blank stare Miroku elaborated by gesturing to her clothes. She was wearing a pair of loose pants, an off-white blouse, carrying a brown briefcase which concealed a laptop, and a brown suede blazer. All together, it wasn't a bad outfit, he had to admit, but it did very little for her complexion, or for her body. "You dress like a thirty year old woman going to the office on casual day without looking in the mirror."

"There's nothing wrong with the way I dress," Sango snapped, locking her bedroom door behind her. She marched down the hallway. "Dressing anyway other than this would be inappropriate. I _am_ working, after all."

Miroku eyed her. She kind of had him there. "Yeah, but…"

Sango turned on him so fast he almost walked into her. "Yeah but what, Miroku?"

"Well… if you wore something else, you could look so much hotter!"

Sango stared at him and then turned back around, pressing the button for the elevator. "I'll pretend that you didn't say that, Miroku. If I ever hear you say something like that again, I won't hesitate to cause you physical injury… something which will cause you sever amounts of pain and not prohibit you from being a mentally active and helpful member of this team."

He gulped. He had every reason to know that she was telling the truth.

"And my panties are none of your business."

Miroku decided that he would let that comment slide. It was too easy. She had to be testing him or something… 'Either that,' he reasoned, 'or else she's so not used to dealing with a man that she doesn't even know she's leaving these gaps wide open for me to flirt with her.'

The elevator was a little crowded when they climbed on, and so they didn't have privacy again until they were walking to the restaurant where they were supposed to meet Akane and Ranma. Miroku was walking with his hands in his pocket, a clear sign of being reserved. He stretched his back, and Sango couldn't help but watch him. It was natural for her to take notice of people's postures or habits. Right now, Miroku's body language was telling her that something was wrong. It didn't take him very long to ask.

"Why did you call him Saotome-sama?"

Sango turned to face him, surprised at his question. That was not what she had been expecting. "Pardon me?" Sango would have been less surprised if he had asked her if she still believed in the Tooth Fairy.

"When Ranma called him up, you called him Saotome-sama. You call me Miroku. Why the difference?" Sango was silent and Miroku smiled at her charmingly. His bangs fell across his deep eyes. "Hey, it wasn't that much of a kiss, so you shouldn't feel like you're _that_ close to me. I would have Frenched you, but then I was afraid you might bite off my tongue. So…"

"You're incorrigible, you know that?" she hissed, her brown eyes narrowing as she looked up at him. They were walking along in the dim streets, the night air cool against their faces. Miroku found it refreshing after being indoors for so long. He smiled as she continued. "Incorrigible, and perverted, and demeaning, and positively hateable…"

Miroku's grinned widened. Pushing Sango's buttons was easy. "If you keep thinking like that, you're going to run out of adjectives very soon."

"I'll switch languages then!" she snapped, picking up her pace in an attempt to get away from him, if only for a moment. Sango rationally knew that it wouldn't do any good. They were going to the same spot, so eventually they were going to meet up again, but Sango had had enough of Miroku for at least a week. She wanted five minutes, _just five minutes_, of peace and quiet.

"Come on, Sango!" he pleaded, matching his pace to hers. This time he was closer to her, his breath tickling her ears as he leaned down to whisper to her. "Tell me."

Sango rolled her eyes, avoiding him. "Isn't it obvious? Your surname was never given to me. What am I supposed to do? Call you Nanashi-sama? If it's really such a big deal to you and you don't _want_ me calling you by your first name, then just tell me your last name."

He didn't answer and she slowly looked up at him. He had his hands in his pockets again. Miroku was back to being on the defensive, but there was a smile on his face. "Any name I gave you would never be as sweet as hearing my first name on your lips, Sango."

She felt her cheeks turn red and glared at him, bitter that he had caught her off guard. "Shut up!" Sango marched the rest of the way to the restaurant at top speed, Miroku walking casually behind her.

Though she walked ahead, she was never out of a direct line of sight or shouting distance. Miroku, he realized, was starting to learn that no matter how much he flirted with her or pushed her away, she would always remain the same distance away from him: always out of reach, and close enough so she could do her duty and save him from himself.

* * *

"They're going to meet us there," Ranma reported, closing his cell phone.

Akane nodded as she turned the corner. "So why do you think your partner started getting these visions all of a sudden? Sango and I kind of assumed that normally those aren't his powers. I mean, neither of us believe in seeing the future. Is that really his psychic ability?"

Ranma shook his head no, getting comfy in the leather passenger seat. Akane personally thought he looked a little small… she had heard that he was one of the best fighters in Japan—maybe even better than she was—and yet he seemed graceful and unimposing.

"He has… I guess you might call it divination. He normally gets feelings from people, about their emotions or their pasts, but within the past few months, he's been able to look at people and see something that happened in their life or what is going on in their lives. He calls the visions Dread—mainly because they leave behind a lot of physical affects like dizziness, sometimes nausea, all those other unpleasant things. This is, as far as I know, the first time that he's seen the future. Although he does like trying to give pretty girls a tarot reading or a palm reading, but I think he's just pulling those things out of his ass and telling them what they want to hear."

Grinning, Akane pulled off the highway. "I wish I'm there if he tries that stuff on Sango… she'd probably castrate him. Sango doesn't like psychics, nor does she like men. In fact, neither do I. But, seeing as how you're one of the team now, I guess I can make an exception," Akane quickly added. Ranma showed no sign of pleasure or of having been insulted.

"I don't like girls that much, so I guess the feeling is mutual."

"What's wrong with girls?"

Ranma's eyes darted to her, taking in the way she wasn't really watching where she was driving and the clear signs of rage on her face. He decided to make sure his seat belt was tight enough. "Never mind. If you want my personal theory on why Miroku's having these visions about Eve, I think it's because he stole her panties."

"He stole her…"

"Eyes on the road!"

Akane turned back to the road in time to turn her car and keep from hitting the sidewalk. A car behind her blared on the horn, but she ignored it. She looked focused and mad, and then Ranma watched it blossom into the prettiest smile he had ever seen. Akane left warmly, and Ranma felt a smile tug at his lips. "Oh, God! I can't believe that we left those two alone together for so long! Ranma, for the record, if Miroku is dead by the time we get there, you have my condolences!"

* * *

The restaurant was called _U-chan's_. Sango was the first one to arrive at the restaurant, Miroku right behind her. She selected a booth at the back of the restaurant, and hid from Miroku behind the little cardboard standing sign which announced the day's specials. Just as she was realizing that nothing in particular looked appetizing with her stomach still feeling queasy, she felt Miroku's leg brush hers when he took the seat across from her.

Sango froze. Miroku was sitting across from her. 'God,' she worried, 'it must look like I'm on a date with him or something, and as we came in separately, it must look like we're trying to hide it… god, if anybody from my school saw me come in, my reputation for not dating is going to go down the hill, and then I'm not going to have any excuse for…'

"Hi Sango," a chipper voice greeted.

Sango peered over the edge of the colorful sign to see Ukyo standing at the end of their booth, a book in her hand. Sango groaned. She had forgotten that the chipper culinary student was working at _U-chan's_… Sango was mentally saying goodbye to her reputation of being single and hopelessly unavailable…

"Who's this?" Ukyo continued, eyeing Miroku.

Miroku grinned rakishly in return, brushing his spiky bangs to the side so that they didn't hang into his eyes that much. He watched as Ukyo's cheeks began to turn the slightest shade of pink. He still had it… For a moment there with Sango, Miroku had worried that he had lost his ability to flirt. Judging by Ukyo's blush, his fears had been unwarranted.

"My name's Tora Miroku," he introduced. Only years of training kept Sango's jaw from dropping at the name he had chosen. "I'm Sango's cousin. And you are?" She introduced herself as his hand slipped around her, pulling it away from the order form so he could kiss her hand in greeting.

Rolling her eyes, Sango's tone almost could have been mistaken for jealousy if she hadn't looked so blatantly disgusted. "Do you mind?" she sneered at Miroku. Miroku casually shrugged and dropped Ukyo's hand as if he was forcing himself to behave to appease his "cousin". Sango, however, didn't miss the wink he gave to Ukyo.

"Are you guys ready to order?" Ukyo politely inquired.

She sounded a little dazed, and Sango could vaguely understand. For a moment Miroku had threatened to sweep her off her feet. She wasn't used to the attention of having one handsome, intelligent, and somewhat charming man devote everything to her for even a second, and then entered Miroku, and for a moment he had made her the center of his world and she had been flattered. Then she had realized he was a perverted, egotistical asshole and she had learned to hate him very quickly.

Ukyo, she was well aware of, was often considered "one of the guys" and had been lacking the same male attention which Miroku had so quickly and charmingly offered her.

"No, thank you, Ukyo," Sango said, still hiding. "We're still waiting for two more people. But we'll take four menus, please." Although she didn't feel like eating, she wouldn't mind a drink… particularly something stiff and smothered with vodka and lemon slices.

After Ukyo had come with the menus and left, Sango leaned over the table. "My _cousin_?"

"Would you have preferred that I was your gigolo?" Miroku inquired, with such a straight face that Sango feared he was serious. Miroku rolled his eyes and picked up a menu, looking at the front cover with something akin to trepidation. Clearly he didn't want to eat either. "We look enough alike."

"We don't even have the same hair color," she pointed out. It was quite true. Miroku's was so dark it almost had a blue tinge, but Sango's shimmered with coppery highlights. Sango wanted to hit him when he merely shrugged. Sighing, she put the small sign away and picked up a menu too. "God, I hate you," she sighed.

"The feeling is mutual."

"Do you _have _to have the last word in everything!"

"Usually. Why? Do you feel a need to retaliate?"

"Hi guys!"

Both Miroku and Sango were more than happy to great their partners. Ukyo returned and took their orders. They then started talking. The restaurant was busy. They could hear the echoes from the kitchen, shouting, talking from other tables… no one would overhear their conversation. If someone was close enough to hear them, Sango guaranteed her partners that she would be able to tell, and she would do something about it.

Slowly, the topics of conversation began to turn from work. By the time Akane and Ranma's desert came around, Sango was feeling well enough to order herself some desert as well, and Miroku was still nursing his tea. Sango snickered as she leaned over and talked to Ranma. Sometime during the conversation, Sango and Akane had switched places so that Sango and Ranma sat near the opening of the booth.

"So he _is_ a history major," Sango grinned, accepting the desert with a grand smile when Ukyo returned. She knew her stomach was going to retaliate from eating nothing but sugar all day, but Sango was willing to accept the consequences. Thinking of their earlier conversation, she leaned a little further across the table, dropping her voice. "Saotome-sama…"

"Call me Ranma," the boy said, almost sounding a little cheerful.

Sango blushed and smiled. That was what caught Miroku's attention as his eyes wandered. He still answered Akane's questions as they talked about the differences between their universities, but his eyes were focused on Sango. Akane didn't even notice. She was too busy trying to outwit Miroku's sharp tongue.

"Ranma… what's Miroku's last name?"

"Don't you know? He doesn't have on—ow!" Ranma shut up when Miroku suddenly kicked him under the table. Ranma sneered, and then looked at his watch. The boy's good mood had been broken. "It's getting late. We should get going. When do you want to regroup tomorrow morning?"

Akane stuffed the last of her desert in her mouth. She didn't want to go without finishing it. Seeing her actions, Ranma rolled his eyes and shoved his hands into his pockets. "That's attractive. You know, you're going to get fat if you—ow… I'll shut up now."

Miroku quietly spoke up. His voice was casual, but his eyes were focused on Sango and Ranma. He was mad at them for talking about him. Even if Sango was his new partner, that didn't give either girls the right to try and learn everything about him. He knew that Sango was keeping her own secrets, but he hadn't asked about them.

"We haven't told Eve's family… they'll want to know where her daughter is. Two of us can go and do that, while the other two… I don't know…"

"I like training first thing in the morning," Akane said. "I've been slacking off with exams. I'll train, you three are welcome to join me, and we can go in the morning to Eve's house, but I have an exam I need to go and fail in the afternoon."

"I do too," Ranma said.

Miroku glared at his friend. "Ranma, you have all the tack of a bull. You're not going to go and see Eve's family and tell them that their child is dead. I'll go. Akane can come with me. Maybe we might be able to learn a little bit more from Eve's family, and try to find out why they were targeting Eve."

"I'll stay with Ranma," Sango announced, sounding a little less than please. "We're supposed to stick together, remember? I'll stay with Ranma in the morning, and then hang out with Miroku in the afternoon. When Ranma's done his exam, you two boys can go hang out and get drunk or watch porn or whatever it is you guys do when you're together, and I'll go back to Tokyo U afterwards."

"But that leaves Akane alone," Ranma pointed out.

Akane tried her best to smile, but it was clearly forced. "I can take care of myself, Ranma Saotome. Remember that."

Miroku put his hand down on Ranma's shoulder, keeping the fiery boy in his seat before a fist fight could erupt between Akane and Ranma. "Let it go, Ranma. Akane can take care of herself, and she'll be writing an exam with a few hundred other students. I really wouldn't worry about it. Sango is just trying to keep an eye on me. You know why. If everything is agreed upon…"

Sango felt like she had just gotten punched in the head. She felt like a baby-sitter… and Miroku was the baby. She wondered why she had ever told him that they had been assigned to watch over him. The poor man had to feel like an invalid… Sango then realized with horror that she was starting to care about how Miroku felt.

* * *

**AN**: For all those who don't know, okinomyaki is a type of omelet/pizza thing in Japan, something I'd love to try sometime. Why okinomyaki? It's part of the Ranma ½ joke, for those who don't know. IN the series, you eventually learn that Ranma's wonderful father (I used the term lightly) promised his son would marry the daughter of a local okinomyaki seller if he would feed them as they were starving. The name of Ranma's third betrothed in the series? Ukyo. The name of the restaurant she starts? U-chan's.

After rereading the chapter to post it, I'm not really happy with it. It's quite pointless. But on the bright side, it will only get better from here on in, and Miroku's warped humor really does lighten things up.

**Hououza**: I hope that you do have an answer to your own job hunting problem, and that it is one that makes you happy. And as for Miroku grabbing Sango like that… at the time that I wrote it, I wasn't actually thinking about complexity, just about a very grumpy Miroku who doesn't want to put up with any bull.

**Lily Thorne**: You've discovered my terrible secret. I AM enamored of love/hate relationships… especially the ones which start out as hate and develop into something entirely composed of love.

**Siren**: Funny you should mention coming back and haunting people. As Ichigo has the power to see ghosts, I was strongly debating having you come back as a ghost to interact with Ichigo, but I thought that it would too awkward, and make it far too easy for them to solve the case as you could just identify your killers! And I promise that the next kissing scene with Miroku and Sango (which possible could happen in chapter thirteen/fourteen according to the growing outlines) will be much fluffier to rectify the kiss from the previous chapter. And the downloading thing didn't work for me. Nor do I have money for the box set… so I'll just have to rely on my imagination as far as forensics go.

**Buddym:** No, I didn't know that, but it is nice to know. I promise to even actually smile as opposed to plastering some fake smile on my face.

**Fireblade**: Yeah… I'm warped too. I made the line, after all.

**MistressofHeaven**: Normally I would tell people to wait and see, but I'm going to be nice. There will be, at the very least, two more victims, but Miroku does not know them. He may possibly know a third, but… I'll have to see where the muse takes me. I'm sure things would be easier for me to plan if I knew who the killer was myself!

**Ninalee-chan**: Yeah, there's a reason why Fuu isn't appearing in this story for a little while. It's because I can't have one of my favorite characters constantly acting as moderator. Eventually the four of them will have to learn to start cooperating. And Miroku with glasses… let's face it. It's plain hot. So I had to put them in.

Till next week!


	7. The Families

Nihil Credo

Chapter Seven: The Families

As she lay in bed that night, Sango couldn't get to sleep. She had an ominous feeling in the back of her mind… Her pillow, the red glow of her alarm clock, even the scent of a slowly burning candle wouldn't calm her down. She had essentially grown up in her room at the Bureau. She had been staying in the same room since she was six years old. She could still remember the day when she had taken down her pictures of cats and unicorns and instead put up pictures of star maps, the periodic table of the elements, or the day when she had put up her first wakazashi.

Getting out of bed, she lifted the short sword from the spot on the wall, and practiced a few swift moves with it. The sword was a ghostly blur in the room. Sango debated going down into the training halls and training with it for a little bit, but decided not to. She really should sleep…

Then her eyes landed on her briefcase. Sango put the short sword away, and opened the briefcase. The sleek frame of her black laptop was invisible. Then she realized what had been bugging her all night.

Miroku.

He had been showing an interest in her, and he was smart. What if, fearing that she wouldn't answer his questions—because there was no way in hell she _would_—he was going to try and hack into the computer files and read her permanent record? There were things… things on there Sango didn't want anyone to see. She didn't tell people about her past for a reason.

_Half-Japanese brat…_

_Freak…_

_Bitch…_

_She's just a little girl, Kakashi…_

Quickly, Sango extracted the laptop, praying she wasn't too late. She flipped up the screen, and waited anxiously for the computer to load as she hooked up wires.

* * *

The screen glowed against Miroku's face. He grinned when the computer finished loading. Typing in his password, it brought him up to the second menu. The screen went black, except for the flashing white cursor. Miroku typed, and the cursor moved, the letters invisible. 

"…access…" Miroku said out loud, his voice a little comforting to him in the still room. His fingers on the keyboard sounded like gunshots. "…personnel… files. Enter."

The laptop whizzed, and Miroku found himself in the personnel database. The files were all locked, except for one. Except for his. Miroku was allowed to go in and see his own files. He began typing again, searching for the one labeled "Tora, Sango", and he searched for a way in.

He wasn't the best hacker, he had to admit, but there was no way Sango could know what he was doing, so he had all the time in the world.

* * *

Sango hit the 'Enter' key. 

The laptop made a few sounds, and then the page loaded. Sango grinned. The personnel files. Sango moved her mouse over her own file.

_Tora, Sango_

_Last Accessed: January, 29th, 2005_

_Last Modified: January 30th, 2005_

'The day that we got the assignment to find this killer.' Sango remembered the day Kakashi had given her their assignments. She had beat Miroku to her file. He hadn't accessed it yet. Sango was relieved. She clicked on her own file. The computer loaded again, and Sango found herself looking at her name in huge letters, as well as a picture of herself from when she was six years old. The picture changed as he watched, showing her each and every year that she spent at the Bureau. She'd had a file since she was six years old…

Sango had never known that. She had never seen her own file. Frankly, she had never felt the need to look. She scrolled down the page a little. Her eye color, her hair color, the names of her parents… even a scanned copy of her birth certificate.

Her whole life was on that file… It was the only proof she had of who she really was.

"I'm sorry, Mom and Dad," she told them out loud. "This means nothing against you, really."

Sango began to delete the files.

Her picture disappeared.

The names of her parents disappeared.

The picture of her parents on their wedding that, their faces bright and smiles filled with love, disappeared.

* * *

"Wait…" He stopped looking for her file. Sango had been asking about his last name. He was trying to break into her file to read about her… how was he supposed to know that she wasn't doing the same thing? Miroku returned to the opening page of the personnel files and opened his file. 

He couldn't help but smile when he saw that only his first name appeared. He felt like Prince. Or maybe like Jesus. He was a one-name man. The picture they had on him on file was horrible. He scrolled down…

_Mother: Unknown._

_Father: Unknown._

He couldn't go any further than that. It was too painful.

Miroku was all-too happy when began to delete things.

* * *

Sango's personnel file was gone. She knew she was stressed when she deleted the last piece on information and was sad. It felt like she had killed herself. She felt like a ghost… but she would be happiest as a ghost. Sango cracked her knuckles… now it was just a matter of making sure she was deleted off of any list which held her name… all the important ones, anyway. 

There was only one important list.

Sango returned to the black main screen, the white cursor blinking in the top corner of the screen. Sango typed away.

_'Access Registry Files'._

_'Access Denied'._

_'Access Registry Files/Authorization Code TS0079819/Password '_

_'Access Denied.'_

Sango cursed and rubbed her shaking fingers. She felt fatigued, but she needed to do this. She had seen the looks that people gave her before, and she didn't want to see them anymore. She hated those looks, the ones where people looked down their noses at you and sneered and acted like you were something less than decent because you were different.

She had seen Kakashi do this before. She had seen him access the files once when she was very little. Sango closed her eyes trying to remember. She remembered sitting on his lap, watching him type. She had only been ten at the time, and she couldn't see out of her right eye because she had a black eye, but it didn't matter because she had seen his authorization code.

She typed slowly. She didn't want to make a mistake.

_'Access Registry Files/Authorization Code OK0079898/Password...'_

The password Sango hadn't seen. However, people got to decide their own passwords. They weren't even recorded in the government files in case of a hacker. Sango thought for a moment… she could only think of one word Kakashi would use. The name of his old partner.

Sango grinned. She knew the name of his old partner. She was one of the few people one who did. Typing it in, Sango gained access. The screen of the registry files popped up, offering Sango a list of choices. To the left read a list of registries, to the right was a text bar if the searcher knew for whom to look. Sango typed in her own name, and the list with her name appeared. She couldn't erase these files. No one, not even Sesshomaru, could erase these files…

But she could make it invisible. The program was written in something akin to HTML. Sango had Kakashi's codes. It was high enough clearance. She could make herself invisible, break the link to her page and make the name white to match the background. She could hide herself from the files.

So that was what she did.

When she was done, just out of curiosity, she type in Miroku's name… and something came up.

Miroku was Registered.

Her hand shaking as she guided the mouse, Sango clicked on the name. The page loaded slowly, and her eyes read as the words appeared. The picture displayed a gate, a tori, surrounded by foliage as it led up a Shinto shrine.

"Oh my _god_," Sango breathed, staring at the screen. "He's… he's… that pervert was born on a _shrine_? He's a _priest_?"

* * *

Sango didn't sleep very well that night. By dawn, she was certain that between Miroku, exams, and her job, she wasn't going to be getting sleep anytime soon. If she wasn't asking questions about the case, or about Miroku, then she was losing sleep studying or worrying about exams. Sango sighed and crawled out of bed, rubbing her eyes. She groggily walked to the closed bathroom door only to hear the water running already. 

'Akane beat me to the washroom,' she grumbled mentally, heading to the closet. She guessed it didn't matter. As much as she wanted a shower to wake up her body, it was rather pointless. She was just going to get sweaty and then have to bathe again.

Quickly changing from her pajamas into her gi, she pulled her long hair up into a tight ponytail and grabbed her sword from off the wall. There were weapons downstairs, but she much preferred bringing her own.

Sango walked out of her room and made it to the elevator without seeing anyone. When she got to the elevator, she found the doors closing. Sango hollered 'wait' and managed to get there in time. Someone had held the doors for her.

"Thank you," she said, smiling and finding… "Miroku."

Instantly, her smile vanished as his grew, no doubt because she had been polite to him. Sango grumpily leaned on the furthest wall from him. Just the man she didn't want to see. Her hair was probably greasy and in knots, and her breath probably smelled, and she was in cramped quarters with him… Sango peered him over as he ignored her, debating what to say. He carried a pack over one shoulder, and wore the same standard-issue gi she did. His hair looked like crap, once again he hadn't shaved, but his teeth were nice and white, so she gathered he must have at least brushed his teeth.

"I'm sorry, you know," he said suddenly.

"About what?"

"About last night and telling that cute girl I was your cousin. If I was going to pull something like that, then I should at least let you know beforehand." He looked over at her to see Sango shrugging. Apparently it hadn't bothered her as much as he had expected.

"So why are you going down to train?" Sango inquired. He thought her voice sounded groggy and generally irate. Apparently Sango wasn't a morning person. Still, she managed to crack a small smile as she looked at him. "I thought psychics like you didn't need to fight."

Miroku shrugged. "People should know how to defend themselves nowadays. I admit that I don't necessarily like fighting in life or death situations, or that I dislike the idea of going up with a staff against someone with a gun, but I do like training with it. I like just going to the training level and playing some music and just going through my pattern-dances. I find it relaxing, and it help keeps me in shape. I'll be the first to admit it. Ranma is the fighter on our team, and he's good at it." His voice dropped a little as the doors opened. "He's damn good at it. Ladies first."

Sango walked off the elevator into the gym. The gym was one large floor, and with the halogen lights, structural walls here and there, and walls the color of concrete, it always reminded Sango a little of a basement parking lot. But it was still nice, and comforting. It always smelled clean, and her fingers itched to try out the racks of weapons which lined many of the walls. Any weapon imaginable was present, except for guns. The shooting range was in another building entirely.

Her feet squished on the mats on the floor. The sound of the elevator door beeped as it went back up. She felt Miroku pass around her, his movement causing the slightest ripple in the air.

"In all honesty, I was hoping I could try fighting against you," he admitted to her. Sango looked up at him, wondering if he was insane. He grinned down at her. "Come on. Ranma and Akane are going to be fighting each other because they both enjoy hand to hand. I was hoping that you could fight with me just for half an hour or so. I didn't get much sleep last night and I don't want to go full-out or anything, just…"

"Exercise?" she suggested when he couldn't find the word. Miroku nodded. Sango gestured to one of the smaller practice rooms, for people who wanted to fight as a team or wanted privacy. "Pick a room. I'll fight you."

They exercised for half an hour. When they both left their private room, they found Ranma and Akane in the main room, which was still deserted. Akane was on all fours, trying to regain her breath. Ranma was barely breathing heavily, and only showed the slightest bit of sweat running down from his forehead. Miroku arched an eyebrow.

"Don't say anything," Ranma warned. "I could say lots of stuff about you coming out of a private room looking like you just got some, not to mention looking sweaty and disheveled, but I won't, so you aren't allowed saying anything, either."

Miroku held up his hands in surrender, putting his staff back on the weapon racks, and he and Sango disappeared on the elevator.

Akane slowly stood back up and sank into a rooted stance, raising her hands. "Okay," she panted, quickly drying her forehead, "I will beat you eventually. Four to nothing… I'll win this one."

She attacked with little warning. She kicked at his knees, but he merely jumped over her leg, almost hanging in the air for a moment before landing on the balls of his feet. As her kick swiped through, she suddenly changed directions, leaning back and letting her foot attack his head, planning to catch him unawares. Ranma simply leaned out of the way. The moment her foot touched ground, she punched forward, aiming for his torso. Ranma once again nimbly dodged, disappearing from her field of sight. She felt his finger land against the back of her head—again, for the fourth time in a row.

Lowering her hands, she turned to look at him. "Where did you learn to move like that?" Akane was taking deep gulps of air, trying to get her breathing and heart rates back to normal. "You didn't redirect my energy. You've never even touched me, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't hit you. It was like trying to hit air. What was that?"

"The special art of the Saotome school…" He grinned at her, and shrugged. Walking to their duffel bags, he tossed her a towel and a water bottle. "That's just how I move. I don't know how, or why, or where I learned it, but no one touches me. I've never met a fighter good enough to hit me, except for my pa, and probably Kakashi and Sesshomaru, but I've never fought against those two."

He took a sip from her water bottle and found Akane staring at him oddly. Her blue eyes were wide and she was smiling a little, as if she was looking at him for the first time and liked what she saw. It made Ranma feel uncomfortable.

"What?" he demanded.

Akane rolled her eyes and grabbed her duffle bag. "Never mind, Ranma. No matter how much of a fighter you may be, you're still immature and dumb on the inside."

"And no matter how many times I see you in a dress, I have a feeling that you're going to always be unfeminine," he quickly retorted, feeling insulted. "You are so uncute." He didn't even have time to duck before she threw her water bottle at him. It struck him in the head, bounced, and broke open on the ground.

"I hate you!" Akane yelled as the elevator doors shut. He imagined that had she the ability to slam the elevator doors, she probably would have done so. She left him to clean up the broken water bottle by himself.

As he cleaned it up, he realized that he had probably just gotten lucky. All he had was the skills of his body. Akane, however, had the skills of her mind, and not just her telepathy. Had it been a fight against all of her abilities, he probably would have been mentally picked up and tossed into a wall.

He really shouldn't have gotten so egotistical on her…

He had to spend the morning with Sango. Maybe she might be able to shed some more light on the situation…

* * *

Miroku watched Akane drive as they headed for the house of Eve's parents. Her hands gripped the steering wheel, and he figured that her muscles had to be tense because she was either gunning the accelerator or slamming on the brakes. His neck was going to be sore by the time the morning was over, and as much as he didn't really want to see Eve's parents, he really wanted out of the car. 

"Maybe you should let me do the talking," Miroku suggested.

Glancing at him, she found he looked… well, for lack of a better word, good. He had actually taken a copious amount of time with his hair to get most of it to lie flat and his bangs to hang neatly for once. It didn't look right on him, but she knew that going into a house with his hair looking like he had just crawled out of bed didn't make the best impression. He was wearing a crisp white dress shirt, and a dark blazer with a pair of jeans. He looked… like exactly the type of person a girl would want to bring home to meet their parents.

And he looked calm. His face was relaxed, his skin pale, making his grey-blue eyes turn a deeper hue of blue, almost sapphire. Akane relaxed a little in her seat, easing her grip on the steering wheel and relaxing the foot that was on the accelerator. "Yeah," she agreed. "You should do the talking. I'll just be there for moral support."

With the way Akane drove, it didn't take them very long to reach the house. The house looked perfectly normal: white, with a small flower bed and a large tree in the front yard. Akane parked the car off of the road. Miroku climbed out of the car, inspecting the house and shielding his eyes from the morning sun. It looked quiet.

"Maybe we should have called first," he told Akane, hearing the car door slam behind her. They both began approaching the house. "There may not be anyone home right now."

Akane shrugged, and knocked on the door. There was a tense moment before the door opened. A woman stood in the doorframe, and Miroku thought he was looking at a ghost. She really did look like Eve: same hair, same face shape, same eyes… Eyes which looked them over suspiciously, taking in their business-like attire and the sun-glasses that Akane was still wearing from driving.

"Yes?" she asked uncertainly. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Miroku gestured into the living room. "We've come to talk to you, Mrs. Kan…"

"Katsayuki," she corrected. She was smiling, but Miroku could see that her eyes were bloodshot and her nose was red. She sounded congested. "I kept my maiden name when I married."

He nodded in understanding. "We've come to talk to you about your daughter, Ms. Katsayuki. Is it possible for us to enter and talk in a more comfortable environment rather than your doorstep? If you don't mind my saying so, you don't look to well, and I don't want to keep you on your feet."

"I'm not really in the mood to entertain guests," she admitted, sniffling and pulling a Kleenex from her pocket, wiping her pink nose. "But you two may come in if you wish. I'm afraid I can't really be much help. Eve isn't here, you know. She's still at school studying for exams." The woman shuffled to a couch and sank down into it, muting the television.

"We're well aware of that, Ms. Katsayuki." Akane spoke up for the first time, pushing her glasses up so that they sat on her head. She then realized her mistake, using the wrong tense. Eve _wasn't_ at school studying. Luckily, she was saved when she heard a kettle whistling in the kitchen. She moved towards the kitchen, smiling at the sick woman. "Don't worry about the kettle. I'll get it for you. You stay and talk to Miroku."

"All right…" the woman said uncertainly. She fell back into the couch, watching Miroku as he took a rocking chair across from her. She arched an eyebrow. "You're feeling uncomfortable about something, and I know that it's about my Eve."

He nodded. "Have you heard…" He took a deep breath. This was always hard. In all honesty, he had never done anything like this before. He had never had to sit in a house before and tell some sweet mother that her child was dead. Miroku poured all his trust into his emotions, hoping that his way with words and his empathy wouldn't get him into trouble. "Have you heard from Eve lately?"

"No," she said sadly, shaking her head. "I haven't. But I didn't expect to. No doubt she's busy studying for her exams. I heard that modern Germany was going to be a very tough exam. Eve will phone me when she has time, or drop by for sweets when she needs a break from studying. She does every year. Her father makes the best homemade fudge. Eve says she needs it to study."

Miroku understood, and his voice wavered a little. "I'm afraid, M'am, that there was an… incident at school. Eve was involved in it. That's why she hasn't called you lately. She…" His stormy eyes fell to the carpeted floor. "She didn't make it."

The woman was shocked into silence. When she found her voice, it undulated with conflicting emotion. Miroku could hear the pain and the anger, as well as a glimmer of hope that he was lying. "What are you trying to say, boy? Are you trying to tell me that… that my little baby hasn't called me because she's _dead_?"

"If there was an easier way to say such a thing, I wish I had known it. Yes, Ms. Katsayuki. That's what I'm saying. The girl in there rummaging in your cupboards was one of the two girls who discovered your daughter's body."

Her shaking hand was covering her mouth. Miroku slowly lifter his eyes, watching her try to old back her tears. "But… but _how_? My baby was just alive! I just talked to her last week! She can't… she can't be dead. Someone… someone… Eve is…"

Akane walked into the room again, carrying a tray of cups and the steaming kettle steeping with green tea. Everyone refrained from talking until the tea had been poured. Holding the tea cup in her hands and letting the warmth seep into her skin, Ms. Katsayuki seemed a little bit more contained.

"You were friends with her from school?"

Miroku replied. "Akane has never met your daughter, Ms. Katsayuki. But I was her classmates. We were in the same program at school." He glanced at Akane, who was paying attention at every word being said.

"Actually," Miroku nervously continued, looking down at his mug. His eyes were soft, his words warmed with affection that even Akane felt from her spot on the opposite rocking chair. "I often flirted with her. Eve was… full of fire, and a very attractive young lady. I was very pleased to have met her. But I never even got to kiss her. Whenever I tried getting close to her, she found a reason to push me away. She especially liked to use the excuse that she couldn't go out for coffee because she had to study and make her family proud by getting good grades…"

His voice dropped away when a sob suddenly escaped Eve's mother. She quickly put down her tea cup and stood up, moving to stand in front of the tv. There she ran a hand through her hair, and then her shoulders sagged. Neither of them could see her face. "Please," she said, unable to hide her tears anymore. "Please leave me."

Both of them nodded and slipped into the hallway, pulling their shoes on. Miroku heard Ms. Katsayuki move, her voice calling out after him. "Young man… how… how did it happen?"

He paused a moment, his gaze looking straight at the back of her head. "I'm afraid I can't say anything about that, Ms. Katsayuki. This matter is being investigated, and I am not allowed to talk about it."

She turned around. Both of them thought that Akane was too far into the hallway to be able to see her face as tears rolled over her cheeks, disappearing at her jaw line. Her hands were tightly clenched at the hem of the shirt she wore. "Why didn't the police tell me? Why didn't someone tell me as soon as this happened?"

Miroku, despite all of his moments of lechery or of perversion, all the women he had dumped in the past and all the ones he had lusted after, had never felt like a jerk until that very moment. A crying mother was looking at him, trusting him explicitly, about to break down into a long period of mourning, and he had nothing but lies all ready to tell her. Somehow, he managed to keep her gaze, and if his expression looked guilty, he could only hope that it would be a fitting emotion for him to display.

"I wanted to be the one to do it," he told her. At least that part was the truth. "I wanted to be the one to tell you that Eve was… dead. I didn't want to let some gumshoe do it, or some butchy cop who couldn't empathize with you. I respected Eve, so I wanted to be the one to bear this burden and tell you. I felt like it was my duty. But it took longer than I expected. I was in the hospital when Eve died, and I had to wait to be let out."

He reached into a pocket and pulled out a card. It was plain white, and only had a single phone number printed on it in tiny, glossy letters. He slid it across the table that held a vase of flowers and stood beside a container holding a collection of umbrellas.

"If you need anything, even just someone to talk to, feel free and call me at that number, day or night. Hopefully, we'll talk again. I want to learn more about Eve, while I have this chance." Unable to think of a proper goodbye, he simply nodded his head politely and walked away. He closed the door quietly behind him.

Akane was already outside waiting for him. The sound of her keys moving as she pulled them out was the only sound which passed between them. It was followed by two doors opening and closing, and then an engine starting. Only when they were driving down the street did either of them speak again.

"Thank you," Miroku said slowly, staring at the window at the passing houses. "Thank you for letting me do that, Akane Tendo."

Akane glanced at him. He looked lonely, and lost. Akane eased off the accelerator a little. She shifted in her seat.

"No problem, partner."

A small smile appeared on his face at the recognition, but it was soon lost as his thoughts consumed him up. The rest of the drive home was silent.

* * *

**AN**: So… it was my first time that I can recall doing a scene like that before. I honestly had no idea where to start. I hope it went okay. The hacking scenes, however, were fun to do. Don't worry if you're a little confused as to what the Registry Files are, or what it means that Sango and Miroku are on them. That will all be explained… possibly with the arrival of Rin's character, because all little girls have one favourite question: 'Why?' 

Aamalie and Hououza both caught my mistakes from the last chapter. _Nanashi_is from 'Gundam Wing' and it is translated (according to certain obsessed friends of mine and random fans of the show) as 'no name'. Hence the humor behind calling Miroku 'Nanashi'. Hououza caught that I forgot to give credit for Yuuko's character. Yes, she _is_ from 'Xxxholic' by CLAMP. So no, I don't own her, and in the series (ta-da!) she _is_ a witch, hence the reason I chose her as the second victim.

**Ninalee-chan**: Ah! Don't care me like that! As soon as I saw the opening line of your review, I had to push myself onwards to finish it!

**Siren**: I get to see him in four days… four long, _long_ days, and I get to see him again. How can tacos make you hyper? And no, sorry, no ghost!Eve will make an appearance. But now we get to learn about your family! (_dances_) Wait until you see who you're related to! What University have you decided to go to?

**Kinshinsgurl516**: Do you know that for some reason your name doesn't come up wrong on my automatic spell checker? And I will take your request into consideration. As this is the first story I've done like this, and I have an obsession with character stories, action scenes are not exactly frequent. So… I will try to come up with a fight scene. Until then, you're going to have to be contented with tension between characters and Miroku's visions.

**Aamalie**: Sorry. No, the other man she hates is supposed to be Ranma, because he has proved himself to be rather annoying. So you're right in the sense that she doesn't really hate Ranma. He just annoys her.

**Veglma** and **HMPrune**: Steal Sango's undies… hm….

Mistress of Heaven brought up some good questions, so I will clarify.

1) Akane's telepathy: telepathy, in so far as I know of all of my twenty-one years, is normally listed with things like ESP. It is not, in fact, magic. It comes from mental stamina, not legerdemain. So no, it isn't magic, but it is referred to as such in this fic. Many things which are not magic are listed as being so, including Miroku's empathy (briefly mentioned in this chapter… yes, Miroku as an ace up his sleeve. His real talent his empathy, not seeing people's death!) Why do they call it magic? That will have to wait to be seen, but as of right now, it's probably because it's easier to call it that.

2) Why is Miroku jerking Sango around? Miroku is a terrible grump right now. Wouldn't you be in his shoes? Don't worry. His sunny disposition will return by and by.

I hope this clears some things up for all of you!


	8. The Hypotheses

**The Hypotheses**

The afternoon was spent with Sango. Sango knocked on Miroku door, and when she entered she found him taking down a painting by Degas and putting up a whiteboard. She arched an eyebrow, wondering what he was doing. At least he seemed a little bit… livelier than she had last seen him.

He tossed her a marker, keeping the blue marker for himself. Sango looked down and discovered she held the red marker.

"Akane gets green and Ranma gets black for when they help us out with this, that way we can identify each other," he explained. "I was thinking that we could start working on a profile of the killer. We might not have suspects, but we have enough evidence and deductive reasoning between the two of us to be able to make up a profile."

"Or killers, as you suggested." He smiled at her flatteringly, touched that she had remembered his theory.

Sango tapped the marker in her hands, grinning. They stood beside each other in his tiny room, looking at the whiteboard. "Okay. Let me go first? We'll start with the obvious. The killer has to have some knowledge of medicine." She wrote the word randomly on the board and then stepped back.

"Right. And my theory was that they had to be strong to be able to tie her down even though she resisted." He wrote down 'strong' on the board.

Looking at the board, her eyes remained focused on the board as she thought. It appeared almost randomly when she asked Miroku, "Does it bother you that she fought?"

Miroku tried his best to keep from snorting at the absurdity at the idea. "No. I admire her for it. That's my Eve, that's for sure." Sango was a little surprised by the tenderness in her voice when he called her "my Eve". He glanced at her curiously. "Why do you ask?"

"Some men," she said with a shrug, "imagine themselves out to be Prince Charming. They want to ride in on a white knight and save the damsel in distress, never thinking that maybe the girl wasn't in distress, or that she had the situation perfectly under control. You just struck me as the type who would go out and try to be Prince Charming." Sango paused. "I apologize. Apparently I was wrong."

"What about you?" he countered, leaning over and trying to see her face. She merely continued to stare at the whiteboard. "You must also admire the fact that she fought."

Sango rolled her eyes, and he was glad to see a wry smile on her face. "I think that was an obvious one."

"It was… and speaking of obvious." His voice trailed off when he walked up to the whiteboard and wrote down 'forensics'. He capped his marker proudly, stepping back to stand beside Sango. "The killer had to have some kind of a knowledge of forensics. They didn't leave anything behind: not a spot of dirt, a footprint, a finger print… they even cleaned Eve's nails to make sure that we couldn't get any DNA from her."

"I had forgotten about that one." Sango walked up to the board and wrote down three words. She stepped back to admire her neat kanji. 'Need for blood.' She grinned at Miroku, turning to see him. Sango crossed her arms over her chest. "So what does that tell you, Sherlock Holmes?"

Grinning, he wondered if she was testing him. He looked at the board. "It's elementary, my dear Watson," he said, watching with delight as she blushed a little. She hadn't expected him to play along. "It means that our killer is either some crazy human, a fanatical blood collector, or a demon."

Her face dropped a little at the last word. When Sango looked back up, her brown eyes were determined, and focused only on Miroku. "Explain."

'So she _is_ testing me…' He relaxed his stance, trying to look carefree.

"Okay, the fanatical blood collector was really a sick joke. It could be a crazy human. Maybe they're just plain bonkers, maybe they want to be the Japanese version of Jack the Ripper, or maybe they think they're a vampire and are going around gathering human blood. Whatever reason, they're probably unhinged. But it could also be a demon. Drinking human blood makes demons stronger. So it's very likely that the killer is a vampire trying to cover his tracks, or maybe just a demon that developed a taste for human blood and is using scrupulous methods to get blood because they know that it's the only way, as it's illegal for demons to kill humans for organs and blood."

Sango arched an eyebrow. "So what do you recommend as our next step?"

Miroku stared at her, grinning. He leaned over and poked her side. "Our captain's asking for help?"

"I'm asking you what your opinion is," she growled, pushing his hand away when he tried to poke her again. Miroku had felt hard muscle meeting his fingers, and he was suddenly very eager to see what exactly she was hiding underneath her blouses. "Just because I want to know what your opinion is doesn't mean that I'm going to necessarily follow it."

"Very well." He straightened and fixed his dress shirt. Running a hand through his hair, he paced in front of her. "I think that it would be best for us to look at the Registry files. We can go through it and start finding any demon with a history of violence, assault, attacks like this before, or ones who have medical knowledge or access to it."

He turned, surprised, when he heard Sango snarl. Her face, however, looked perfectly normal. She was staring at him, her face lacking any smiles or warmth, looking as composed as a beautiful statue. Miroku stared back for a moment, wondering if he had heard it correctly. Maybe it had been his imagination. He must have been mistaken. Surely Sango wouldn't _snarl_ at him.

"Why the Registry files?" Sango demanded. She put the marker down on the whiteboard and headed to the laptop sitting on the desk. "You yourself admitted that it could be a human. Why should we go through the list of registered demons? Why not hack into the government files and start by eliminating humans in medical facilities who have a history of aggression or neurological orders… Never mind."

She stopped her point when she noticed that Miroku was looking at her oddly. Sango turned on the computer, leaning back in the chair and conceding. The matter was dropped, but not forgotten. Now Miroku _knew_ that there was something wrong with Sango. She had started pressing the matter too much. She didn't like that he thought a demon was the killer. He stared at her as she sat at the desk to use his laptop. After a further moment of puzzlement, he relaxed and decided to ignore it. Worrying about Sango was not what he needed at the moment. Besides, she could take care of herself.

She jumped when his hand brushed her arm. Miroku looked hurt that she didn't trust him more. He was merely opening the top drawer of his desk and pulling out a package of gum. He offered the package to Sango after taking a stick for himself. Sango shook her head no.

"They help the nausea go away, I find. My stomach's a little… unsettled still."

"What did you have for lunch?" Sango looked up to see that he looked a little guilty. She had to admit that her own stomach still protested now and then. It didn't like what had been going on the past few days. "No lunch… that would explain your upset stomach. Why don't we do this afterwards and we can go grab a bite to eat from the cafeteria?"

Miroku shook his head. Sango looked irate and he offered her a weak smile, sitting down on his bed. "What? They don't have anything there I like." He paused, looking at the whiteboard. He strained out of bed and put another word down. "I think the killer is male."

"Agreed," Sango said quickly. Miroku coughed on the bed and she turned in the seat to see him lounging on the bed. She ignored the sight of his muscles straining against his dress shirt. He looked up at her curiously, his stormy eyes demanded an explanation for her quick agreement. "I'm not saying that the killer is a male because I don't want the killer to be female. I'm saying that it's a male because two of the victims were female. They were found alone in an area which was unsafe for a lone female to be in after dusk. It's therefore probably that the killer is a male and led the women to those isolated areas because he was attractive and wooed them."

"That's what I thought too. It would also work with being strong. If they were attractive, they probably worked out slightly, either because he found women like guys with muscles or else because he thought it made him look cooler. If he was attractive, he's probably young, too." He rubbed his head. Miroku felt a migraine coming on. "So, that means we're going through the database to see if any registered demon we have on file has a medical history, aggressive tendencies, a police file, and have the same physical appearance as the victims… probably eighteen to… twenty-eight?"

Sango agreed. She began to plug the information into the computer files. As she waited for the computer to sort through the files, she leaned her elbow on the desk.

"If Eve did go off with this guy because he was attractive, then what did that make me?" he abruptly wondered out loud. Sango refrained from stealing Akane's "chopped liver" comments. Miroku sat up in bed, looking at the back of Sango's head. "What do women find attractive in men?"

With a shrug she answered. "All depends on the women and the man, I suppose."

He was silent for a moment. Then, very tentatively, he asked, "what do _you_ like in men?"

"Do I have to answer that?"

"It would be nice."

Sango let out a deep sigh. She began thinking, wondering what her perfect man would be. "I guess…" she began, feeling very silly. "I guess, that physically I would like a man who takes care of himself. Clean shaven, nice hair, nice skin… I guess I like lithe men. There is such a thing as too many muscles, after all, and the bulging veins muscle builders get are a little freaky looking. But I'd want someone smart, with whom I could converse. I want someone who has the same interests as me, but likes different things too, so that we could expand each other's horizon's…" Sango's voice trailed off as she found herself lost in imagination.

Realizing Miroku hadn't said anything for a while, she turned in her chair and was shocked to see him lying on his bed, curled up in a ball and clutching his head. She vaulted from the chair to his side, though the space between the bed and the desk was hardly anything. She dropped to her knees, her hands landing gently on his arm.

"Miroku! Hey! Miroku! You okay? Hey! Pervert! Answer me!" Sango was beginning to get nervous when he wasn't answering her.

Finally, after what seemed like an hour to Sango, Miroku lifted his head. She was close enough to notice that his face looked thinner than it had the day before, the bags starting to form under his eyes, or the fact that his eyes were bloodshot. He was starting to look like he hadn't slept. Combined with his untucked dress shirt and his unbound hair, he was beginning to look haggard… he was beginning to look like he really was sick.

"Sorry," he said, patting her hand reassuringly. For once, Sango didn't jump at his touch. His patient smile became broader when he realized that. "My head's killing me. I'm not having a vision, don't worry. Just a headache." He slid off the bed and out from under her hands, leaving Sango kneeling by his bed. She blushed when she realized with which part of his anatomy her eyes were parallel. Miroku didn't notice as he slunk by her on tired legs to the washroom he shared with Ranma. "I'm going to take some Tylenol."

He shuffled to the washroom and turned on the light. The glare of the halogen lights off of the white tile in the washroom made him squint and made his headache increase. He groaned when he saw his reflection in the mirror. The perfect appearance he had worn that morning was gone. Miroku pulled open the medicine cabinet, looking for the Tylenol.

A stabbing pain grazed his chest. Miroku doubled over, clutching at his heart and biting his bottom lip to try and keep quiet. His heart thumped wildly and he started feeling himself start to sweat, knowing what was coming. He ignored it.

'No. NO. I'm not going to feel that again. I'm not having another vision. Eve is dead. I'm not having a vision…' His thoughts were cut short when he felt a needle stick his arm. Miroku dropped the bottle of Tylenol he was holding.

Hearing it, Sango looked up from the computer. "Miroku?" she called out gently, standing up and peering closely at the open bathroom door. "Are you okay?"

'Shit! Sango!' He didn't want her to see him like that. But… if this was a vision and he locked the door on her, he could get into serious trouble. If the vision was like others, he could end up dead when his heart stopped, all because he had been so prideful he'd been stupid enough to lock a washroom door. Miroku had his pride, but it wasn't worth his life.

Miroku grunted, nursing his arm as if he really held a wound. His head swam and he felt the ground rush up to meet him as he fell on the ground. His elbow struck the tile floor with a bang, but he didn't feel it. All he felt was the knife stabbing over his heart.

Sango leaned on the doorframe, watching Miroku writhe on the floor. Her body felt numb. She didn't know what to do in a situation like this. Sango fell to her knees by his side, wrapping her arms around him and calling out his name. His eyes stared blindly ahead, not listening to her. Though he continued to breath hoarsely, his muscles tight as he fought against some invisible foe, he gave her hope when his hand found hers and he refused to let go. The palm of his hand was clammy, but Sango held it back as tightly as she could, feeling the warmth of his body. She lay her other hand gently against his arm, leaning over him to see his blind eyes.

"Miroku… talk me through it…" She hoped her voice reached him, but her hope was followed a second later by guilt. She could claim that she was just trying to talk Miroku through his vision because she thought it would be good to remind him that there was someone there to help him. She could claim she was trying to remind Miroku it was just a vision all she wanted, but it would still be a lie. Sango asked questions because it was her job to find the killer, and the things Miroku saw might help her. She asked questions because it was her job. "Miroku, what do you see?"

"White light…" came the choked reply. His eyes stared blindly at the halogen lights on the ceiling. Sango watched them run over her face without even seeing her. "White light everywhere. I can't see my body, just the white light."

"What can you hear?"

He took a moment to concentrate. "Breathing," he replied slowly. He seemed to return a little bit more to himself, tightening his grip on her hand. "Breathing. Hoarse. Loud. It's close to me, but I can't see who it is, or what it is. There was screaming before. I couldn't tell it was then either. The breathing is quick. It sounds… panicked."

"Can you smell anything? Last time you said you could smell wine. Can you smell wine now?" He shook his head. "Can you smell _anything_?"

Miroku swallowed with difficulty he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he had returned fully to himself, but he still seemed disturbed. His whole body still shook from the way every muscle in his body was tense. She worried when she saw how pale he was, or the trickle of blood running down from the corner of his sensuous mouth. Without thinking, Sango brushed it away for him. They stayed like that for a long time, Miroku laying on his side in the washroom, curled into fetal position, while Sango knelt on the hard tile next to him, holding his hand as a kind of anchor.

After a long time, she leaned down to his level. "Do you think you could sit up?" she asked him.

Miroku blanched and shook his head. "I don't want to move," he answered, licking his dry lips. His eyes drifted to the toilet, and Sango remembered that he said he had felt ill. She guessed, correctly, that he didn't want to leave the toilet in case his stomach decided to rebel.

She tried her best to smile at him. "Do you want me to rescue the gum you had in your desk?" Miroku stared at her like she was crazy. Then, he slowly smiled back and squeezed her hand in silent thanks.

Eventually, Sango left to go and call Kagura. The nurse, when she found out that she was going to be making a house call to Miroku's bedroom, was all too happy to make the journey to the residence floor. When she found Sango still in the washroom however, keeping a careful eye on her patient, she was a little disturbed. Miroku was still curled up on the floor, his head resting on a pillow which Sango had brought for him. Sango had also brought a blanket, and his breaths were so irregular and small that she couldn't even see his chest rising.

Miroku still refused to return to his bed. Under Kagura's instruction Sango left to go and get some boiling water from the cafeteria to make a tea for Miroku. Kagura had guaranteed that they would help to ease his stomach and to relax Miroku enough that he should get a good night's sleep. Sango brought the tea up to Miroku.

"Drink it."

"What is it?" By that time he was sitting up, the blanket from his bed wrapped around his shoulders as he leaned against the shower. He looked down at the mug he held, clearly disgusted by the murky tea.

"Medicine," Sango answered, sitting down across from him, leaning against the sink. She had gotten a book from her bedroom and cracked it open. Miroku set the tea down, and then felt her glare at him. He looked up. Sango may have a book open and held in front of her face, but all of her attention was still focused on him. "I told you to drink it, Miroku."

He glared at her. Sango glared right back at him, and eventually he drank it all as fast as he could. He groaned, laying the empty mug back down. Miroku rubbed his stomach as it tried to rebel from the disgusting broth. "Why can't they ever make something like that taste good? Would it really hurt so bad if they could add some peppermint in there or something to make it at least slightly enjoyable to drink?" He slowly slid back down to the ground, clutching his pillow.

It wasn't too long until he was asleep. Sango continued to read her book, letting him get his rest. When Ranma returned home from his exam—which he was certain he had failed—together they moved Miroku into his bed. The blue-eyed boy was still sound asleep. Sango tucked him in, and straightened to see Ranma looking at her with a smirk.

"What?" she demanded haughtily. Sango didn't dare to raise her voice above a whisper. She didn't want to accidentally wake Miroku. He deserved a good night's rest. They all did.

Ranma slowly shook his tail, his ropy braid just barely visible as it moved from the motion. Sango watched as the martial artist's face changed slightly, becoming softer and a little pleasantly entertained. She had seen that expression before. She had seen it on Miroku's face when he had been patiently amused by her naivety. The expression pissed her off. She didn't want people laughing at her, nor was she supposed to be naïve. She was a detectives. Detectives were supposed to be smart and capable, _not_ naïve.

She glanced back at Miroku, looking at the way she had tucked him in. She felt her expression beginning to soften as she looked at the way his long lashes hovered over the curve of his cheek from this angle, or how he slept in fetal position, his hands laying semi open as if they were waiting for a stuffed teddy bear which never came, or the way his dark hair had a slight curl to it, cupping his earlobe and the masculine jaw line…

And she'd tucked him in.

Sango blushed. "It's not what you think, you idiot." She turned away from Miroku to scoop the findings from their search in the registry files into her briefcase. Sango snapped her briefcase shut and walked out, pausing briefly in front of Ranma. The boy with the braid continued to look at her as if she entertained him, mocking her. Sango didn't even waste the time going red with anger. Her soft lips pulled back as she hissed at him, somehow managing to appear taller than Ranma.

"He's my only connection to this case right now," she hissed. Ranma swore that her teeth looked sharp enough to rip out his throat and his laughter slid away. "It's _your_ responsibility to make sure that he lives through the night. If he dies, or something happens to him, I lose my only hope of tracking down this killer. Making sure he lives is my job right now. Miroku is _my job_. If you let something happen to him, I'm going to let Master Kakashi punish you. Do we have an understanding?"

Ranma never answered her. She had wanted to intimidate him, but he stared back at her coolly. It… it looked more like she had accidentally insulted him from implying that he would ever let anything bad happen to Miroku.

Though she would later deny it, Sango turned and fled.

She didn't want to be stuck in a room with _that man_ near her anymore.

* * *

Sango fled all the way home. She'd also stolen Kakashi's car to do it, as Akane still had the car they shared from going to see Eve's family earlier in the day. She figured that at the very least she would get a punishment for taking it. Maybe she would even get her weapon license suspended, but Sango didn't care. She didn't want to spend a ridiculous amount of time taking the bus home, and she really wanted Kakashi's kick ass sound system.

Sango turned on the radio and played with the stations until she found some hard rock. Then she turned up the volume so loud that the car windows rattled and she could feel the base filling up the pit of her stomach. She pulled her long hair out of her ponytail and tapped her hand to the music, singing and bobbing her head in tune to the music. The music drowned out her thoughts.

And ignited something else. The primal beats echoed in her body. She felt energized, capable of anything. Her muscles shook with excitement. Her head swam…

She ran her tongue over her teeth. They were sharper than normal. Sango swallowed hard, and turned the music down just a little bit, enough so that the way her fingers shook with excitement subsided. She was once again in control.

Sango sighed and pulled over. She opened her briefcase and took out her agenda. She opened it, looking at the month, and counted. Twenty-eight days… The cycle would start again in three days. She shut the book and shoved it back in her briefcase.

How come she hadn't looked until now? She should have been more careful! Had she really been so distracted by her exams not to notice how her own body was reacting to her environment?

No. Not her exams. They weren't distracting her. Nor was it Miroku, who had somehow become a constant worry on Sango's mind.

It was the case.

"I'm starting to sympathize with the victims," she realized. She was starting to become obsessed. Finding the killer was no longer an opportunity for advancement within the IBSP. Finding the killer was no longer her job. Finding the killer was no longer about making people safe in her homeland.

Finding the killer was about the hunt.

* * *

When Sango finally made it back to the college dorm, she found Akane packing her things. Sango felt a stab of something akin to sadness. Their third year was done. Next year would be their last. "I forgot you were all done exams," she said, sliding her briefcase up to the top bunk.

Akane turned around, eyeing Sango. Clearly, there was something wrong with her friend. Akane, however, decided not to ask about it. Sango would tell her what the problem was in time. "I suppose it's a good thing," Akane said, "that the university dorm rooms make us leave forty-eight hours after our last exam. Sure, we'll be far away from the scene of the crime, but we'll be staying in headquarters, so at least we'll be close to our new partners."

At the thought of their new partners, Akane noticed a definite change in Sango. At first she suspected it was anger. Only a blind person would have been incapable to see the tension between Sango and Miroku, and even then it was debatable. As she stood there, studying Sango as the young lady took out her pajamas and tossed them on the bed, Akane realized that Sango was worried about their new partners. She could see it in the way Sango was putting so much decision into her choice of pajamas. They were _pajamas_, for Christ's sake! No one was going to see them!

"Why are you so worried about them?" she demanded.

"I'm not worried," Sango said quickly. It was too quick and too unconcerned to be a normal Sango answer. She really was worried. Sango could icy and so concentrated that she even appeared _bitchy_, but not so… so _hollow_.

"Bullshit," Akane spat, throwing a book into the trunk she was packing.

Surprised, Sango looked up. Akane was glaring at her. Sango quickly looked away. She absentmindedly fingered the silky fabric of one of her nightgowns before she slammed the drawer and sighed. "Miroku had another vision, and I'm worried about him, okay?"

Although she was taken back by Sango's sudden aggression, Akane's glare merely softened in response. Then she brought a hand up to tap her chin, her eyes puzzled. "That doesn't seem right…" she thought out loud.

Sango was taken aback by Akane's response. She grimaced, baring her teeth and hopped up on her top bunk, turning her back on her best friend. "Bite me, Akane. So I'm worried about the lecher. It doesn't mean anything, okay? And what's that supposed to mean, anyway? My god! Do _you_ think I'm so heartless I can't care for somebody? Are you going to laugh at me when I show a shred of emotion?"

Unable to think of a way to tell Sango she was being a bitch, Akane's answer was to throw her stuffed panda bear, Genma, at her partner. Akane was able to throw it so hard that Sango actually said 'ow' and rubbed the back of her head, turning to look at her friend angrily, feeling betrayed.

"I wasn't saying anything about your personality, Sango-chan. And you are not as cold as you pretend to be. We both know that, and you know I would never laugh at you. I _meant_ that it was odd Miroku-san was having a vision. He was connected to Eve. Eve's dead now. That should mean that his visions stopped. He shouldn't have any more."

"Yeah, well, I don't put much stock in visions in the first place. I don't believe in predestination. The future isn't already determined. Miroku's probably just pulling all our legs…" She couldn't believe what she was saying! Hadn't she spent the entire day with Miroku on the floor of a washroom because she was worried about him? Miroku's powers were real.

Akane shook her head, smiling a little. "He's not actually a… that is, he's not actually predicting the future. If you asked him about, he would have told you. He sees… _things_. He sees what people are feeling, and where the things will lead them in life."

Sango looked at her friend, tossing Akane back her panda bear. "That's bull."

Rolling her eyes, Akane tried to explain. "Okay, let's so we go to a restaurant and Miroku predicts that the waiter would slip on a piece of salad someone dropped and the waiter would fall flat on his ass, he's predicting the future, right?" Sango nodded. "But that's not how his power work. He might look at that man be able to see that before he came to work, the man had something traumatic happen in his life and now he's preoccupied. Any trained monkey could make the next logical assumption that obsessing over something in the past and not paying attention to your own environment is dumb and will only end in making a mistake. So instead, Miroku would predict that the man will make a mistake unless he starts paying attention to his surroundings. He makes a vague prediction using logic and what he sees in the past."

"But these visions aren't like that…"

"I know. It's been bugging me for a long time." Akane continue to pack her belongings, but she also continued to talk. "For one thing, how was he able to see Eve's future, and three times, at that? Normally he can catch glimpses, but nothing so concrete, and not about the future. It implies a bond, and as far as we can tell, there isn't a bond."

Sango looked at her friend over her shoulder, her mouth twisted as she puzzled over the matter. "Ranma told me this morning that Miroku had a thing for Eve." Akane was a little surprised that Sango was nonchalant about the matter. There was no frustration she generally associated with how Sango would mutter about perverts or lechers when Miroku was the topic of discussion. "If they _were_ in a relationship, that would explain…"

"If they were being the key words, Sango," Akane interrupted. "But they weren't. Miroku kept trying to get into her pants, but Eve kept on saying no. I think you would have liked her for it. She kept telling him that she had to study and that she didn't have time to date. In that context, she sounded a little like you."

"And Miroku?" Sango slowly inquired.

Her friend grinned at her. "He was the perfect gentleman and he never laid a hand on her." Akane waited for her friend to reply, but Sango had fallen into solitude. Her warm eyes stared at her pillow, and she didn't answer Akane. After a moment, she continued. "Family could also forge such a strong psychic connection. But, we'll let that one pass. We don't want to think about Miroku being attracted to his own half-cousin third removed or something ridiculous like that, do we?"

Sango managed to wryly smile. "No, not particularly we don't."

"This means that there are three remaining possibilities. One is that Miroku has forged a bond with the killer, like being related to the killer, but that for whatever reason, he finds himself entering the mind of the victims, perhaps because he associates himself with them, or because he's subconsciously in denial and chooses to see the future from the mind of the victim because it's less painful than seeing it from the mind of his own insane flesh and blood."

Not particularly fond of Akane's suggestion, Sango's smile disappeared. She hoped that possibility number two was a little bit more acceptable. "And option number two?"

"That Miroku's powers are developing at an exponential rate."

The second suggestion wasn't really much better. Sango didn't want to think of Miroku's genes suddenly randomly mutating. There was nothing he could do to stop a mutation, and these visions were causing him pain. They were even killing him. To Sango, there was nothing more horrific than the idea of one's own body being out of control and causing you to be completely helpless against death.

"What about the third option?" she asked, wondering if she even wanted to know.

"That Miroku formed this bond because the person with whom he felt the connection was also a psychic."

Sango stared down at Akane. "Are you trying to suggest the Eve was a psychic and they SHE was the one who started this in Miroku?"

"We haven't tried looking her up in the Registry files. She could be. And even if she isn't registered, if her powers were dormant or passive, she might not have even known. Miroku's continued visions could be her form of revenge against her attacker. We know Eve was a fighter. She might even have been vindictive. If this is her version of helping us, by giving us a link to the next victim, it would explain why he's still having visions. We should run her family too. The whole family could be psychics and not know.

"Besides," Akane finished, packing away her beloved Genma panda bear. "His entire connection to this case did start when he stole Eve's panties."

"He… He… He did_ what_?"

* * *

**Author's Notes**

I am back from my trip. I hate leaving my home, I really do….

**Siren of Erised**: I'm going to refrain from making Mom jokes. And yeah for studying English at Ryerson! I hope it'll be better than our program here at Nipissing. The program here is… well, let's just not go into it.

**Mistress of Heaven**: Yes, we'll get to see his past, as well as Sango's past. However, you have to wait to see them. You won't get any hints until Miroku and Sango open up to each other, and so when she/he find out, that's when you'll find out. Also, Ranma and Akane should remind you a little bit of Inuyasha and Kagome. They are very similar characters (ie/ Inuyasha and Ranma both have mother issues).

**Lily Thorne**: I'm confused. "macced said daughter"? What is this "macced"?

**Veglma:** No, you're not insane. Although really, given her personality, I much prefer thinking she's more like Oren Ishi from 'Kill Bill'.

Well… I am getting tired, and I still need to unpack from my trip, so that's it for this week. Thank you for the awesome reviews. I feel bad because I haven't worked on this for over a week. I will have to remedy that, and very soon. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Yes, it is vague, but don't forget that this is a mystery. Things will all be explained in time. Good night, and don't let the bed bugs bite…


	9. The Modifications

**The Modifications**

When Sango woke up the following morning, she woke up to the sound of her cell phone. Sango lurched up in bed, her long hair flying around her. She swore when she struck her head on the ceiling. She rubbed her aching head, suddenly going from irate to plain pissed off. Where the hell was her cell phone?

On the bunk below hers, she heard Akane groan and roll over. "Since when do you have your phone on ringer?" Akane demanded. Her voice was loud, but muffled. It sounded like she was yelling into her pillow.

"Since Miroku implied I had it in my pocket on vibrate so I could get aroused," she complained. Still mostly asleep, Sango lifted her pillow and roared in frustration. "Damn it all! Where the _hell_ is my cell phone?"

Akane tossed it up from the floor, where the cell phone had laid next to Sango's briefcase. It had been clearly visible… to anyone but Sango. Sango thanked Akane and groaned when she saw who was calling her. Sango winced, brining the phone close. She knew that this was going to hurt… She pressed the talk button.

"He…"

"_Sango Tora_!" Kakashi yelled from the other line. On the bottom bunk, Akane jumped when she heard Kakashi's voice clearly. Akane had never realized that Kakashi had had such great lungs. The rest of the conversation was lost to Akane as Sango decided to bring the cellular phone to her ear. She might lose her sense of hearing temporarily, but at least the conversation would be private. "_Sango Tora, you stole my car_!"

"I needed a way home," she yawned. Sango refused to get up. She hadn't slept very well, and she wanted to lay in bed relaxing as long as she possibly could. Pulling the covers over her head, she found herself cut off from the morning sun… thankfully. Sango closed her eyes, preparing to sleep in for once in her life.

"I see… how the _HELL does that justify grand theft auto_?"

Apparently Kakashi was not going to let her sleep in, much to her annoyance. Sango's opened her eyes again and looked at the phone like it was a traitor. "It's not like you needed it," she snorted.

"Don't you dare take that tone with me, young lady!"

"And don't you try to start talking to me like you… you're… you're…"

Sango wanted to say 'my father' but she still remembered her sensei's expression the last time she had screamed that in a fit of anger. She had never seen Kakashi look so hurt before. The man was like a well of energy. He could be laid back and appear almost brutally blasé at times, but he was human, deep down. In most of her memories, Kakashi's eye had been smiling at her, the fabric which covered his mouth curving slightly as he smiled. He smiled a lot, and he treated her to ice cream whenever she had successfully learned something new. To others he might appear reserved, but to her, he had just about always been happy.

Sometimes, she found herself still recalling the way she had seen his whole face—once, only once—and he had smiled at her. Seeing it had made her want to cry. Even years later, it still made her want to cry. And Sango didn't cry.

But, of course, Kakashi got mad too. He had gotten mad before and had punished her. Kakashi never became mad without just cause, however. And she supposed that stealing his corvette had been reason enough for him to get mad and wake her from her sleep.

On the other end of the line, Kakashi sighed. "Sango, Sango… Sango. I _am_ your legal guardian."

"And I am licensed to drive a car and listed on your insurance, need I remind you," she countered.

"But not on the _corvette_!" Sango smiled to herself as there was silence on Kakashi's line. She knew that right now her teacher was clutching his forehead and shaking it… She was in University. She would be done soon. She should know better than to act so irresponsibly and _think_ about her actions _before_ acting upon them… but no. His Sango was growing up very slowly. She was maturing very slowly. She had been nineteen when she had first gotten a crush on a boy. She had been twenty-one when she had gotten her first kiss. Kakashi knew. He knew everything. And so seeing as how most girls seemed to be getting crushes at the age of ten and kisses by thirteen, he knew that soon she would be bringing home boyfriends in leather jackets and claiming that she loved them, forgetting about the stuffed teddy bears he had given her when she had been a little girl, or the movie star's posters she had hung up on her wall.

She matured slowly. It wasn't her fault

It was in her _genes_.

"Sango," Kakashi asked slowly, "is the car still in one piece?"

"Of course it is," she snorted. Like she would ever ruin a car, let alone Kakashi's corvette. Akane was the one whose driving would give you whiplash, but not Sango. "You should know how well I drive. You're the one who taught me."

"Then I'm not too mad. I guess I can't really get mad at you for taking the car, but next time you need a ride home after dark, why don't you either ask me to drive you home, or take the _other_ car? Okay? Sango?" Sango was being awfully quiet. Finally, Kakashi heard her agree, but from her tone he knew she was just going to do it again. There was nothing he could do but wait for her to repeat her transgressions. Rolling his eyes, the teacher got down to business. "Sango, since you have the corvette, why don't you and Akane come on over?"

Back at the head quarters of the Bureau, Kakashi picked up two pieces of identification which were discarded on the table. He grinned as he picked them up. "I happen to have a special little gift for you two girls…"

Sango's ears picked up. Like any young girl, she was too curious for her own good. "Like what? Kakashi-sama, what is it?" She growled over the phone when he laughed at her. "If you don't tell me what it is, I guess I could always take the long way to headquarters and take the corvette through the red light district of Tokyo…"

"Sango Tora, remind me _never_ to tease you when you are in possession of my baby. You are positively the most evil, cruel, and vindictive woman I have ever had the pleasure of teaching." His voice grew fond over the phone. "You're just like your mother in that aspect."  
Her throat became choked with sentimentality. Kakashi didn't normally talk about Sango's mother, and both of them liked it that way. It was too painful for both of them.

After the silence became uncomfortable, Kakashi relented. "I have tickets for Urahara…" He was cut of when Sango suddenly screeched, then cursed. He bit his tongue to keep from laughing, knowing that Sango had once again struck her head on the ceiling above her. She had a tendency to that when she became excited.

"You mean it!" she asked gleefully. Kakashi could vaguely hear Akane in the background, demanding to know why Sango was acting like she'd just gotten a backstage pass to meet Gackt. "We get to go see Urahara? Like… Akane and I? Both of us?"

"And Ranma and Miroku as well," he said, but it was too late. Akane had heard Urahara's name and now he could hear her screeching excitedly in the background too. He waited patiently until they had calmed down and was about to tell them to report in as soon as possible, but Sango beat him to it. She hurriedly said that she would be there as soon as they were washed and dressed because they didn't want to see Urahara being smelly and in their pajamas.

Sighing, Kakashi turned his portable phone off and hung it up. He collapsed his head on the back of his leather couch. He wondered if a quarter to seven in the morning would be too early to polish off the bottle of scotch Sango had given him for his birthday.

Back at the dorm room, Akane beat Sango to the washroom. Hearing the water starting to run, Sango decided to let Akane have her privacy as she picked out what to wear. She wanted to look professional for Urahara, so maybe the skirt ensemble with a pale blouse? She then wondered what she was thinking.

'I'm probably going to have to baby sit Miroku again,' she realized, her eyes narrowing. She hung up the skirt she had been considering. 'If I'm going to be around _that_ lecher, I'm wearing pants. Loose pants…' Sango pulled out a pair of dress pants from her closet, wondering why Miroku was suddenly having such an impact on what clothes she wore around him. He was a flirt. That was all. Minus the one grope he had given her after they had first met, he hadn't even been that much of a pervert… he just flirted with Ukyo, and… and he kind of unsettled her.

When he was around, she was painfully aware of where he was. She could feel the intense heat his body gave off, and feel those grey eyes following the slightest move she made… she wasn't sure if he was watching because he was trying to figure out how to flirt with her and not end up in pain… or if he watched her because he was scared of her.

Neither option was exactly preferable. Both were crap. Sango was either the prey or the predator. While normally she would have chosen to be the predator, hands down, she didn't like the idea that her partner was afraid of her.

Remembering how he had looked the night before, his soft hair falling against his skin, his eyes closed and his lips parted as he breathed peacefully, Sango wondered how she could ever consider him a danger. She found herself having to push the image of Miroku sleeping and remember the way his eyes were alert even though he was tired, or the way he had of making their dislike of each other into a verbal minefield. Then she was able to remember why he was dangerous.

He was smart.

Sango grinned, pulling out a shirt. She was smarter. As Kakashi had pointed out, she was her mother's daughter. She was every bit as conniving as her mother had been. But more importantly, she was her father's daughter, and from him she had inherited some of his best traits, including her twisted sense of "playing". When Sango played, it was often deadly.

Miroku was never going to know what hit him by the time Sango was done with him.

'What am I thinking!' Sango threw the shirt back into the closet as hard as she could, her bottom lip shaking from a sudden rush of adrenaline. She glared at the calendar as if it had betrayed her. 'Two days… all I have to do is last two more days. I can do it. Because I'm not going to let this get to me. I'm going to beat this thing. I always do. And that… that _monk_ is not going to affect me just because he's the first guy I met who _happens_ have a somewhat decent resume for being a boyfriend. He's my partner… I am _not_ going to try to act like some whore by flaunting myself in front of him just to taunt him. I'm not like that. If I want him to suffer, I'm not going to demean myself sexually to do it.'

When Akane got out of the shower, her towel wrapped around her, she gestured to the window and her mind wrapped around the cord of the blind. The cord lifted into the air and gave a sharp tug. Her mind released it and the blinds dropped so she could change in privacy. Sango glared at her, as if Akane had been using her powers improperly.

"Sango," the smaller girl sighed, "how am I supposed to keep my powers in shape unless I _use_ them now and again? It's not like I get into a fight every day against some Jedi and have to throw shit around." She paused, trying to change the subject. "So what exactly made Kakashi-sensei get so pissed?"

"Um… I kind of took the car," Sango said, sneaking into the washroom.

"He got mad because you took the Hyundai?"

"No… I took his _other_ car…."

Akane's response could be heard two floors above and below them.

* * *

"You dead yet, Miroku?" Ranma asked, walking into Miroku's bedroom. At first he was a little distraught to see that Miroku was still in bed—as normally it was Miroku hollering for Ranma to get his ass out of bed, and not the other way around—but on a second look he saw that Miroku's chest was still rising and falling slowly.

Miroku had made it through the night. Now why didn't that make Ranma feel any better?

He slowly approached Miroku's bed. Upon closer inspection of Miroku, Ranma found beads of sweat on his forehead, and the young man's breathing was so forced that Ranma could hear it. Ranma wanted to let Miroku sleep in, but he knew that Miroku would kill him for allowing him to miss the meeting Ferio had just told him about.

Ferio followed Ranma through the washroom the two junior agents shared to peer around the washroom door and look at Miroku. He didn't want to actually enter the room because he worried that seeing so many faces crowded around him might give Miroku a heart attack when he woke up. "Still asleep is he?"

"Yeah." Ranma squatted by Miroku's bed, poking him in the shoulder. "Oy. Miroku. Wake up, you bastard. I don't care if you're sick or not. If you make me late, I'm going to kick your ass."

His face pinched. It looked like he was starting to wake up, but was fighting it off. Finally, Miroku's eyes opened. He stared ahead at Ranma as he lay curled up on his side, in the exact same position in which Sango had left him. His eyes were clouded over, looking greyer than normal. Ranma was actually concerned when Miroku merely stared straight ahead. Miroku's eyes weren't adjusting to the light.

It was creepy. Ranma didn't know that much about biology, but didn't that mean that Miroku was catatonic or something?

"Mir… Miroku?"

His partner suddenly blinked. When Miroku's eyes opened again, Ranma watched as the color of his eyes deepened and returned to their normal hue. His eyes were focused, and they stared at Ranma, finally seeing him. Miroku managed to smile, but it looked pained.

"Is it time for breakfast already?"

Ranma let out his breath. He hadn't realized he had been keeping it in. He smiled back at Miroku. "Stop trying to give me a heart attack, you idiot. Ferio came up to wake me," he said, nodding his head in the direction of their boss. Ranma's grin spread. "We're going to go and see Urahara!"

"_Really_?" Miroku immediately sat up in bed, looking like he was eight years old and had been told he was getting to go to a theme park. Then his face scrunched and he clutched his stomach. Ranma thought it looked like Miroku was going to be sick. When he tried reaching out for Miroku, his friend pushed him away, breathing heavily and coughing into his hand. After a tense moment, his coughing was under control, though it still sounded like he his throat was sore and his breathing was still audible. "I'm okay…"

Slowly, Miroku threw the covers off of him and turned to get out of bed. His feet touched the floor, and he slowly stood, wobbling a bit. Ranma watched as he staggered towards the washroom. Ferio hurried to get out of his way, though he stayed close to Miroku in case his legs gave out and he needed to be caught.

"Both you of you," he said, his voice raspy, "stop looking at me like I'm a cripple. I'm perfectly okay. I'm just a little… off right now. And my head still hurts." Miroku smiled weakly at his partner and his mentor. "A shower will make me feel much better. I'll be out in just a second." His grin grew. "After all, I don't want to embarrass Sango by smelling and looking like I'd just crawled out of the back of a dumpster, now do I?"

He managed to hold himself straight as he walked into the washroom, locking the door behind him. He started the water, his breathing heavy. All he had to do was last a few more minutes… The water began to pour out of the showerhead, filling the room with the sound of gently falling water. Miroku rubbed his stomach as he dragged himself over to the counter and turned on the clock-radio sitting by the sink. Rock music covered up whatever sounds the shower didn't.

Miroku's legs gave out under him and he fell to the ground. He felt like he had been beaten by a truck. His muscles were sore. Hopefully the shower would fix them. His head still pounded, and his stomach still wasn't quite happy, but he could deal with it. After all, he was going to get to go and see _Urahara_. Miroku could have woken up in a shower tub full of ice with his liver removed and he would still skip downstairs with a smile to see Urahara.

And then he began coughing.

That was why he had struggled to keep breathing and to make it into the washroom where he could play the radio to cover up the sound. He was hunched over on the tile floor on his knees, coughing into his hand. His lungs hurt and the force of his coughs tore at the back of his throat. He coughed until his throat was raw. When he looked at his open palm, he swore.

His hand was dotted with blood.

Miroku didn't know what that meant. Was it from his lungs? Was it in his throat but coughing so much? Was it bleeding from being irritated, or was he hemorrhaging in his lungs?

He grabbed some toilet paper and wiped off his hands and his mouth. He tossed it in the garbage and then straightened with a groan. He had decided that it had to be irritation. If he was bleeding internally in his lungs, surely he would know about it. There would be pain in his lungs, and a raspy sound when he breathed… He dismissed it as nothing and began to strip.

Within a moment he was stepping into the shower, letting out a soft moan when the warm water struck his back. Miroku's muscles began easing already so he stood in the shower, letting the warm water cascade down his back and the warmth loosen his tense muscles. He rubbed his neck, rubbed his shoulders and ran his fingers through his hair… and his mind drifted away…

To Sango. To the case. To Hell.

There had to be some kind of a connection, and he would have bet all the money he had that the connection between the victims had been forged by Sango. He was certain that she was the key to the entire case, not his visions. He _knew_ that she was hiding something. He could feel the secret hanging around her like some kind of a mask, shrouding reality whenever she was around. Her presence twisted things so that he became confused. He wanted to know what she was hiding. One day, he swore, he would find out. He'd _know_ Tora Sango if it was the last thing he would do. He'd find a way to get to know her, and all of her secrets…

Miroku looked down at himself and sighed. His erection throbbed, demanding for attention.

'Well,' he thought, rolling his eyes at his body's unflattering timing, 'at least _some_ parts of my body still work.'

* * *

Ranma and Miroku were silently riding the elevator down when the elevator stopped on the main floor. The doors slid open with the slightest of sounds, revealing Akane and Sango. There was plenty of room for both, but when Miroku saw Sango, he wished they the elevator had been packed so he would have an excuse to stand next to her.

Though leaning against the opposite wall from her and admiring her from afar certainly did have its upsides as well. It gave him a wonderful view of Sango, who was so lost that she didn't even notice he was eyeing her. His eyes started at her feet, taking in the dress shoes, and then flowing pants that made her move like water or air, which tightened at her waist, showing off how well toned her stomach was and the curve of her hips. Her shirt was traditional oriental cut, the gold and brown of the shirt bringing out the cinnamon color of her skin and the lighter parts of her eyes. The high collar accentuated her long neck and the subtle lines of her jaw, though the way her hair was pulled back into a French twist looked a little austere.

Other than that, Miroku thought she looked professional… and gorgeous.

Despite being entranced by the idea of finally getting permission to see Urahara again, Sango still noticed the way that Miroku was looking at her. She raised an eyebrow. "What are _you_ looking at?"

"Oh, only the prettiest agent in the Bureau…" Miroku sighed, his eyes still affixed on hers.

Much to his delight, Sango blushed. She also glared at him, and it was so potent that even Akane and Ranma, who were silently watching the exchange, feared that Miroku might lose an appendage or two. Sango eyed Miroku back. His shoes had been shined. His grey pinstripe suit and his white dress shirt had been ironed. His collar was buttoned up to the top knot—which she suddenly realized he didn't normally do—and he was wearing a navy blue tie. He looked very professional… so it took her a moment to notice that his eyes weren't quite as lively, that his lips were still dry and cracked, and that he was leaning against the wall because he was having trouble standing.

His visions were still affecting him physically. She doubted very much that he had eaten breakfast. He was trying to look more professional to cover up the fact that his work was affecting him so drastically.

She wondered how much sleep he had gotten. Had Kagura's herbs really worked? Maybe he'd suffered from nightmares during the night. She smirked, lowering her eyes and looking at the floor of the elevator. "I think you need more sleep, Miroku," Sango purred, her eyes slowly slipping up to his. "You're delusional and obviously hallucinating."

"Sango, love, if I was hallucinating, I would be hallucinating you wearing some stringy bikini number, not being covered up from neck to toe."

As Sango let out a growl and threatened Miroku, Akane turned to look at Ranma. "She's flirting with him!" she gasped, shocked at what she was seeing. Ranma was nodding his head in agreement, but Akane had forgotten about Sango's fine-tuned senses.

"I am _not_ flirting with him!" she hissed, red faced.

Miroku smirked, and leaned off the wall towards Sango. His grin was charming, if irritating as he suggestively wiggled his eyebrows. "Actually, Sango, my dear, you _were_ flirting with me."

Luckily Sango didn't have to respond to his comment as the elevator stopped and the doors opened. Ranma bolted off of the elevator, looking around at the rows and rows of desks before him where people were already at work. He could hear equipment being used from far off, and the sound of a gun being fired as some new model was being tested. He rubbed his hands together greedily, the others stepping off of the elevator behind him.

"The Bond level," Ranma said, grinning.

Akane looked around. "I forgot how big this place is. I think you could fit a small factory in here."

"That's a very astute observation, Miss Tendo," a voice drawled out. It was soft spoken, and barely seemed loud enough to be heard. In fact, it sounded almost _feminine_, but in reality it was very polite. The small group turned to see Urahara standing in front of them, leaning on his cane and a smile barely visible. "After all, aren't we a little like a small factory ourselves? We design new equipment, we make it, and we test it. We're very self-sufficient down here, you know. Now, badges and modification permits please."  
Everyone dug around in their pockets for a moment to find their identification and the permits their bosses had given to them. When Miroku found his, he was sad to see that Sango had already produced her identification. He found himself wondering where she had put it, because he certainly couldn't recall ever having noticed pockets on her pants…

"Yes, Ms. Tendo, I remember you. It's not every day that one of my staff members gets thrown into a wall for flirting with an agent." Urahara chuckled at the memory. His eyes, though hidden by the striped hat he wore, seemed to travel to Sango. "And how could I ever forget you, Ms. Tora? I can still remember when you could barely pronounce my name. I still can't get over how beautiful you look. You could rival your mother, that's for certain."

Sango blushed furiously, and Miroku felt a stab of jealousy. Sango was blushing at Urahara's comments, but if he had said something like that, she would have punched him. At the very least she would have had some kind of witty response to make him feel like a jerk. But Urahara was complimenting her and was getting away with it! It was inconceivable!

"And you're still a shameless flirt, Urahara," she said, smiling back at him. Her gold-brown eyes warmed up to his hidden face. "But I suppose I can't really say anything. A woman shouldn't be mad at a fellow cat lover simply because of a few flirtatious words."

"That's disgusting," Miroku muttered to Ranma. He was so quiet that even Sango couldn't hear him. "He's got to be at the very least thirty years old. Sango's young. It's… it's like pedophilia seeing him flirt with her like that."

Ranma nudged Miroku with his elbow when Urahara looked their way. Miroku's comment might have been unnoticed by Sango, but not by Urahara. Miroku couldn't help but gulp. The man's eyes were hidden by the shadow from the sunhat he was wearing, but Miroku could see the lips purse and the jaw tighten as he kept from saying anything rude.

"And _you_ are?..."

'Not good enough to be remembered by you, obviously,' the university student bitterly thought. He held out his identification. "Miroku. My partner, Saotome Ranma. We're with them."

"Ah. I remember you." Somehow, he didn't sound quite as thrilled remembering Ranma and Miroku as he did about remembering Akane and Sango. He leaned on his cane and offered his hand to Sango. Sango grinned and accepted Urahara's arm, linking it with hers. The man picked up his cane from off the ground and offered the other arm to Akane, who giggled and accepted it as well. When Urahara walked, Miroku and Ranma could hear the familiar tapping sound of his geta sandals on the cement floor of the large room. "Let's go to my office, shall we?"

* * *

**Author's Notes**

As promised, here's chapter nine of _Nihil Credo_. I like this chapter. Not only does it explain Sango's charater, but it also has the entrance of one of my favourite characters, both in this fanfic and in anime, Urahara Kitsune from Bleach! (_dances_) I have just finished downloading Bleach 35, so... hopefully I will get to watch it this weekend. Don't worry if you don't understand some of what was said in this chapter, such as the mention of Sango's genes, her mother, or how Urahara and Sango met each other. it will all be explained eventually. Urahara and Sango's relationship to be explained a long time from now, so if you really want to know, IM or e-mail me, and I will explain.

**Mistress of Heaven:** Nope, Sango just found out about the panties... unless I made a mistake. (_shifts eyes nervously_)

**Hououza**: Yes, Inuyasha and Kagome will make the scene, eventually, just not the way that one would expect. Sadly, Kagome is a little... OOC. I think she's too much of a ditz... but what am I supposed to do? She's supposed to be a trophy wife!

**Veglma**: As it will be further explained, there's some prejudice when it comes to demons. People automatically assume that because they need blood to live, or flesh, or whatever, that they must all be evil, and so they will irrationally blame things on demons (demons referring to witches, vampires, oni, whatever) simply because it's a handy excuse.

**drunkdragon:** _Silence of the Lambs_? I'm flattered! I love Clarice Darling!

**Ninalee-chan**: I want to tell you right now, but I _can't_! It'll ruin the surprise! (_ducktapes her mouth shut_)

**Toki-san**: I do enjoy CSI. A _lot_.

Till next time!


	10. The Interest

**TheInterest**

It turned out that Urahara's office was far from the other end of the floor, where construction and testing were done. They walked the entire way there, Urahara leading Akane and Sango by the arm and leaving the two men to take up the rear, seething in anger. Both of them realized they had no reason to be so possessive of their partners, and for the most part, they couldn't care less if Urahara got down on one knee and proposed to them. What made them jealous was that_ they_ had been recognized and complimented by Urahara, while he had almost forgotten about Ranma and Miroku.

They were jealous of the attention being paid toSango and Akaneby a senior officer, and they were a little disturbed that a man so much older than they was flirting with them.

'So much older,' Miroku grumpily sneered. 'He's just a few years older. Besides, if Sango didn't like it, she'd say something. Or punch something. So… so maybe she likes him back. Fine by me. I just wish that she could flirt back with him when I'm not around. Watching them talk is making me want to vomit.'

At that moment, Urahara was leaning over, crooning something into Sango's ear and making the pretty young lady blush and smile demurely in response. Miroku wondered when Sango had ever learned to be demure. She normally stared ahead, unblinking, unphazed by anything around her. She was antagonizing, she wasn't _demure_. She was a fighting tiger, so where was the fight?

"Ah," Urahara said, releasing the arms of the women he held. "This is my office. Please, pardon the mess." He opened the door and held it open for them, revealing an immaculate office. There wasn't a speck of dirt or dust anywhere.

'And he calls this messy?' Ranma wondered. He helped himself to a seat far away from the desk and then looked up. A cat sat on the bookcase above him. He bolted up from the chair. "_Holy shit_! A _cat_!"

Sango looked around, spotting the black cat laying on the bookcase. She smiled up at him. "Come on, Yoichimaru," Sango purred, holding out her hands for the sleek cat. The cat yawned and stretched before jumping down into her arms. She hugged the cat tightly, and the cat merely curled up against Sango's chest, resting his paws against her shoulders. "Hello, Ichi."

Ranma was still in shock. "It's a _cat_!"

"Of course it's a cat," the senior agent said, reaching over and scratching the feline's ears. He gestured to the room. "In case you can't tell, I'm a fond lover of felines. This cat here was actually given to me by Sango." The tall girl smiled proudly at the recognition.

Ranma took the seat furthest away from the cat, crossing his arms and sulking. "I hate cats."

With a little smirk, Sango looked up at Urahara and winked. "I knew that there was something about him I didn't like."

"Be nice, Kitten," he chided Sango. "Please, all of you, take a seat." They all took a seat. Miroku sat near Ranma to keep him protected from the cat. His eyes narrowed when he saw that there was no seat for Sango, so she perched on the edge of Urahara's desk. To help steady her, the blonde agent put an arm around her waist. "So, all of you are working together, hm?"

"Yes, sir!" Akane politely said with a chipper hint of excitement. "And because of that, we get new equipment! What are you going to give us, Urahara-sama? New cell phones? New prototype bullets? New forensic kits? Sunglasses capable of seeing through walls? Watcheswith hiddenlasers?"

Urahara chuckled. Miroku's eyes narrowed as he watched Urahara's hand slide up Sango's arm, resting at the back of her neck. "No. Well, not most of that. For you, Akane, I have that equipment you wanted for some kind of reconnaissance. If you need any help, don't hesitate to ask for instructions. You have the best of the best in the reconnaissance kit. Anything to help keep you and my Kitten here safe." He smiled at Sango affectionately, but for once she didn't notice.

"Reconnaissance?" Sango looked at her friend suspiciously and sighed. "Oh, Akane, don't tell me that you were being _serious_…"

Ignoring her friend's tortured groan, Akane crossed her arms and held her chin up high. "I was being quite serious. You know as well as I do that I can't get anymore information out of that bastard Tatewake without going out on a date with him. I want the works when I have to degrade myself to the point where I have to go out with some slimy, dumb, rich boy just to do my job."

Urahara continued before a fight broke out. "And while you won't get prototype bullets or anything, I will give you prototype cell phones." He picked up what appeared to be an ordinary cell phone laying on his table and flipped it open single handedly. "What makes these new is that we've managed to link them into the Bureau's own GPS tracking system. You can never get lost with one of these, but more importantly, neither can your partners. You'll always know where to find them."

With a snort, Miroku rolled his eyes bitterly. Still, he couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement knowing that he was qualified to use one of Urahara's newest inventions, and curiosity at knowing how it worked. "What are you going to do, Urahara-sama? Give us all tracking devices so that we can always find each other?"

Much to his dismay, Urahara smiled. His smile was a little unsettling. It oozed charming, conniving promises. "That's exactly what I'm going to do." He set down the phone and picked up a small chip, no larger than the size of a normal earring. "This is the transmitter. With it, your partners and your bosses will always be ale to know where you are, so if anything happens and you need back up, you don't have to waste time giving your location because we'll already know where it is."

"How are we supposed to carry around something so tiny?" Ranma asked. His eyes were still locked on the cat in Sango's arms. He was wary of the cat, and when the cat stretched suddenly, he jumped in his seat. Akane stifled a giggled and Ranma shot her a brief glare.

"You don't carry it around. It's epidermal."

Ranma now stared at Urahara in shock. So did Akane, but it was the first who managed to speak first. "Epidermal?"

"It's going to go into my _skin_?" Akane hissed, her voice squeaking out.

Urahara nodded. "It's really quite simple. We've developed a special needle that will…"

"_Needle_!" Akane was pale. She stood up from her chair and hurried to the door. "I'm not having any needles! I'm out of here!"

Ranma's reaction was instantaneous. He almost always knew when to push people's buttons, and at that moment he saw an opportunity for revenge. He grinned wickedly, forgetting all about the cat in his vicinity. "What's the matter, Akane? Are you afraid of a little needle?" She paused, her hand on the doorknob, and she glowered at him. Miroku could practically see the water droplets in the air turn into ice from her fierce gaze, but Ranma was oblivious to it. "Aren't you supposed to be one of the best junior agents in Japan? Shouldn't you be immune to things like needles? I mean, in case the bad guys out there ever captured you and _tortured _you or something?"

"Ranma," Miroku called out, trying to stop his friend. Sadly, Miroku continued.

"I bet you that you _are_ scared," he cruelly teased. Ranma gulped when Akane spun around. She marched over to him, poking her finger into his chest.

"How _dare_ you mock me, Saotome! You're scared of _cats_! You're scared of a house pet! You have no right to mock me for being ashamed of needles! None! I will go and take that needle! I'll make you eat your words, Saotome! And then I'll get my revenge because you _don't have the right!_"

The room was silent as everyone stared at the two. Urahara released Sango, rubbing his hands together. "Well then. Let's go and get those transmitters, shall we?"

* * *

Sango was the last one to go in and take the needle. She was still holding on to the cat she had given Urahara. Sango was glad that her pet was doing so well, but she had expected as much. She had given the cat to Urahara in the first place because she knew that he was a cat lover. She sat on the table, the doctor who had administered the other three shots sterilizing her arm, when Urahara walked in. 

Her heart clenched in her chest when she saw him enter. His cane, tapping the ground, and the familiar sound of his sandals gave away his entrance. Sango always felt relaxed whenever Urahara was around. He was always laid back, with his gi pants and the hunter green jacket he always had on… and his ridiculous sunhat which gave him an aura of mystery and only helped to make him look more comfortable.

"I can take over for you," he told the doctor. The doctor bowed his head and hurried from the room.

Urahara leaned against the counter across from Sango, grinning. She watched as he lifted his hand and pulled off his hat. His blonde hair was stuck to his head from the hat, the ends sticking out. He looked comical, but also downright gorgeous. He was just so _normal_ looking to Sango. Eccentric, most definitely, but _normal_.

"How have you been, Sango?" Urahara inquired gently.

Sango felt the color rise to her cheeks. "I'm good. School's going well. I have one more exam early next week and then I'm done for the summer. I can devote all my time to this case."

"Oh, I don't think you should do that. I know that it's imperative we catch this guy, Sango, but at the same time, I don't think that a fine young lady such as yourself should worry so much about this while she's in the prime of life. Go out. Enjoy yourself. Go to the beach. Go to a shrine. Spend a day shopping. You should do something so that you aren't always concentrating on work."

She looked down at the cat she held. Urahara had a point. For a moment she thought that he was going to ask her out on a date, but Sango knew that was silly. He wouldn't do that. He was Kakashi's closest friend. Too many times had Sango come home and found them so busy arguing over a game of chess or mah jong that she had been ignored until both of them had run out of things to say.

Of course, then Urahara would turn to look at her and smile at her so charmingly that Sango would automatically forgive him for ignoring her. He would ask how her day was, how her classes had been going… And he had always been the same age. Urahara didn't age. He was a full demon. He wasn't human.

The way he walked with a can wasn't real. His soft eyes weren't real. The hairs on his unshaven chin weren't real, nor the way his blonde hair curled around his ears. None of it was real. It was all a façade.

There was no way that a full demon, centuries old, was going to ask _her_ out.

"I think that the boy with the earring would love to escort you," he suggested. Urahara was shocked when she looked furious at the idea. He picked up the needle laying on the tray. "Was it something I said?" he asked innocently, taking her arm gently in his.

"I don't like Miroku. He's a pervert," she said, avoiding her eyes from the needle he held in his hands. "Once we have this case wrapped up, I'll be more than glad not to see him again. He can go off to his university, and flirt with all those girls and study his religion or his history or whatever it is he's taking, and I won't ever have to see him again."

"You still haven't told me what your major is, you know." His eyes were lowered, his lashes pale against his skin. "I think it's because we haven't been talking as much. You've always been secretive, Kitten. Once there was a time when you told me everything. I think that keeping your secrets are your way of getting back at me for not being there as much as I used to. You're all done, by the way."

Sango looked down. There was a small red lump in her arm. The doctor had already told her that it would go away soon, but he had also told her that she would experience a small discomfort from the injection. With Urahara, she hadn't felt a thing except for his fingertips gently holding her arm.

"I've been busy." It was the closest that Sango could come to an apology. She knew that she owed Urahara more than that.

He frowned. His pretty face didn't look right with a frown. Slowly, he laid his fingertips against her cheek, drawing her face to look at him as she sulked like a little girl. "You're a grown woman, Sango. You're too old and too pretty to sulk."

Urahara felt her muscles tense as he leaned down and kissed her cheek. "We'll talk again when you're ready, Kitten. But just because we may not be able to talk about the intricacies of the universe in a Freudian versus a Jungian perspective, it doesn't mean that I don't want to know what's going on in your life. Is that understood, Kitten?"

Nodding her head, she meekly got out a 'yes, sir' before she handed Yoichimaru over to Urahara. The black cat mewed in complaint. Urahara smiled, scratching Ichi's ear.

"He missed you too, you know."

"I know," Sango sighed, raising her eyes to look up at her two friends. It was hard to hide the tears from Urahara. It was hard to hide the regret and pain from him because she knew that he would understand and offer her support and condolences. But Sango couldn't say anything. If she did, he would ask why, and Sango couldn't answer why.

Urahara reached down and squeezed her hand. He slipped her the medicine she was supposed to take to make her body accept the tracking device. "Sango, don't go telling anyone about these devices, understand? They are for your partners, Ferio, and Kakashi to know about only. This is _top secret_." Sango nodded, blushing when Urahara leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Come back to me soon, Kitten. We foreigners have to stick together."

Sango left feeling like she was walking on cloud nine.

* * *

Akane rubbed her arm where she had been injected. Like Sango's arm, the area was red and hurt vaguely, but she could ignore the pain. She could even ignore the fact that she feltmiserable and that her face was blotchy from crying. Akane could even ignore the fact that Ranma kept _staring_ at her, making her feel uncomfortable. What she couldn't ignore was the fact that her arm itched. 

Miroku could her hand when she lifted it to scratch again. They were all waiting for Sango to come out of the doctor's office.

"Don't do it," he warned Akane. "You'll just irritate it more."

"Yeah," Ranma agreed. "If you keep scratching it like that, you'll just have to get another needle. And this time, it will be bigger and longer so that they can shove it so deep into your arm…"

"_Shut up_!" she roared at him, clenching her fists and standing up. Akane stormed off to the opposite side of the room, her back to them.

Ranma smirked, and looked up at Miroku. Miroku looked pissed. Ranma rolled his eyes and slumped further into the chair. "Fine. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mocked her like that." He caught his chin in his jaw when he leaned over the arm of the chair, his eyes affixed on Akane. "She's not really all that pretty, you know. Sango's drop dead gorgeous. Akane looks mediocre in comparison. But Akane's so… _cute_. She looks even cuter when she gets mad..."

He was staring in his friend in shock. Ranma _never _took an interest in girls. Maybehe looked atprofessional martial artists of the female genderout of sheer respect, but never had he taken a romantic interest in a girl so far. Miroku's jaw was open as he stared at Ranma. "You… you have a crush."

"I do not!" he protested, sitting straight up in the chair.

"Um, yes. Yes, Ranma, you do. Trust me. I've had enough of them in my life to recognize a crush when I see one, and I know that this is a crush. And what better person than Akane? She's intelligent, she has the same interest in you, she's strong and quick, so I bet that she could even hold her own against you in a fight, and she's cute to boot."

Miroku crossed over to his friend and leaned down, whispering in his ear. A smile began playing on his lips. "Why don't you ask her out?"

"I couldn't do that!"

"It'd be perfect, Ranma," Miroku continued. "Ask her out for breakfast. I bet she hasn't eaten yet. It can be your way of apologizing for making fun of her for being afraid of needles. Just the two of you… a brunch, and all the food you two can eat." Ranma wasn't budging, so Miroku thought he would add some fuel to the fire. "By the way, how was sparring with her? I hear that she wants to spar against you again because she had fun."

"Huh. She had fun getting her ass kicked? She's too slow for me, her punches waver too much… she's _good_, but I'm better."

Miroku grinned slyly. "So why don't you suggest that you two train together a bit more? You can teach her some more stuff. Eventually I know she'll be good enough to kick your ass. She's a tenacious little… Tenacious means stubborn, Ranma. She's probably just as obstinate as you. And, you know, since she's done university until the term starts again in the fall, she'll be staying here in the headquarters. So she'll be within easy reach for you two to spend some quality time together in the dojo…"

Leaving Ranma to think about his suggestion, Miroku went back to looking around the waiting room, lost in his own thoughts. If Ranma stopped being such a jerk towards Akane, then maybe they really would be able to become friends, at the very least. Akane shared many traits with Sango… which was fairly obvious, as that was what made them partners in the first place.

However, unlike Ranma and Akane, Miroku didn't have to ask nicer to Sango. He was nice. She just shot him down. Maybe he thought that his compliments had more ulterior motives, but they didn't. The compliments he gave her were just compliments. At the very most, he would have liked to see her smile at him in return, or offer him a shred of kindness, but she only got mad at him.

Although, in all honesty, he didn't mind seeing her mad. She looked beautiful when she was mad. But he thought she would have looked even prettier with a smile…

"No!" he heard Akane shout. Miroku turned around to see Akane standing up, advancing on Ranma in such a fit of anger that he was actually backing up. "Do you think that I'd want to go out for breakfast with such a troglodyte as you? You, you, you _stupid_, cruel…"

"I'm sorry."

Akane automatically backed off. The names she had called him hung worthlessly in the air before dissolving. She had completely forgotten about them. Her blue eyes stared at him, her short hair barely brushing her shoulders as she tilted her head, eyeing him. Her lips were parted in shock.

"Did you just… _apologize_?"

He stuck his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, Akane, I did. Don't get too used to it. It doesn't happen a lot. But I'll admit it. This time, I was wrong. You teased me about my fears. I shouldn't have sunk down to your level and teased you back."

Miroku's forehead fell into his awaiting palm as he groaned. Ranma had been doing so well, and then he had to open his mouth and insert his foot.

With his head held in his hand, he missed the way that Akane snapped her finger in Ranma's direction. "You're despicable! Training hall, right now, Saotome! I'll make you eat your words!"

Akane began stomping off in the direction of the elevator. Ranma stared after her like she was insane before he grinned wildly. He wouldn't admit it, but Miroku could see it plastered all over his face. Ranma loved how Akane thought. He wouldn't admit it, he wouldn't even compliment her to her face, but he really did like her.

"Where are they going?" Sango asked, walking out of the room. Miroku looked up at hearing her voice, but frowned when he saw Urahara following her. His hat was back on, but Miroku was certain that the older man's eyes were focused solely on the female officer. Sango was oblivious to this as she watched Akane and Ranma race to the elevator. She could even hear them starting to laugh.

"Going to go and fight," Miroku replied, rising to greet Sango as she walked into the room. He yearned to reach out and touch her, perhaps put a protective hand around her, but he knew he would be rejected. He had no right to act like he had some kind of a claim on her just because he didn't like the idea of a senior officer flirting with her.

Sango nodded. "I see. Those two certainly are weird. Urahara-sama, I'll see you later. Yes, and I'll see you later too, Ichi-kun. I'll bring you back some tuna." Sango reached out and scratched the cat's black ear. Miroku watched as Urahara lifted his hand, gently letting his fingers trail across her skin as she pulled her hand away. The touch, Miroku could tell, was light and gentle. Sango's cheeks began to blush slightly at the intimate touch, her hand caught by his and she held it back very softly.

Miroku felt like he was seeing something he shouldn't. He felt like he was dirtying something sweet and innocent by looking at their intimate moment. He turned away, turning away from Sango and Urahara. He decided to wait for her by the elevator, where he would be too far away to see Urahara flirt with Sango.

She followed him much sooner than they had expected. He turned to see her turning back into the Sango he recognized: the professional girl with eyes that could kill from a simple glare, who wore her emotions far away from his prying eyes. Nonetheless, she granted him a small smile, eyeing him.

"Let's go and get breakfast together, Miroku." She placed her hand on his back, between his shoulder blades. Miroku felt like her hand was ablaze. He could feel the outline of her hand even through all his clothes. "It's my treat."

He didn't take very long to think about it. Miroku pressed the button for the elevator. He smiled back at her. "You haven't been eating either, have you?"

Sango, to her credit, didn't blink at his comment. He knew he had been right, but Sango refused to acknowledge it.

"Why haven't you been eating? Have you been…" He searched for the correct word. "Have you been thinking about Eve too? I know that I have. Recalling what happened to her makes me sick!" Sango could hear the tension in his voice. Her hand still laying between his shoulder blades, she could feel the tension of his emotions solidify, his muscles tightening under her hand. His voice continued to become deeper as he kept speaking. "It's _disgusting_, what happened to Eve. When I find whoever did that to her, I'm going to throw them into the deepest, darkest, dankest cell we have, and I'm never letting them out. I'm… I'm…."

She watched, petrified, as his hand clenched. She could hear his skin tightening, and his knuckles crack. Red liquid began to flow through the cracks of his fingers. Sango automatically grabbed his hand. "Miroku!"

Her worry roused him enough to see the elevator doors were opening. He walked unto the elevator, Sango following him as she kept trying to tend to his hand. Miroku looked down at the blood seeping from the shallow, semi-circular cuts on his hands, but he didn't feel pain. All he could fee was Sango's fingertips as she tried to tend to him.

Reaching over, his other hand caught her chin, and he lifted up her face so she would look at him and stop playing nursemaid to his superficial wounds. His gaze was directed solely on hers. He was saying this for her benefit, not for his. Sango listened very carefully.

"We have to be strong. We can't be strong unless we eat. Eve is dead. I will mourn _after_ I get this bastard and I see him rotting in the deepest hole I can find. We have to be strong to find him and bring him to justice. We can't be strong if we're letting our emotions starve us to death. Therefore, we are going to go out and we're going to get the biggest breakfast we can find. Understood?"

Sango pursed her lips. "I'll agree to treat you to a continental breakfast so long as we can stop by the hospital and get this bandaged up."

"It's the morning shift, right?" Miroku nodded, pulling his hand away from her. He looked at his hand like his blood had betrayed him. "Then Amy's working. I like Amy, so you have a deal. If it was Kagura working, I'd settle for a doughnut for breakfast. I _really_ dislike Kagura." He sighed heavily, his eyebrows knotting as he looked at the tiny wounds punctured into his palms. "I really am starting to feel like a human pincushion…"

* * *

They went to the okinomyaki place where Ukyo worked for breakfast. They grabbed a tea and a few of the breakfast pastries offered by the family-owned restaurants: donuts, tarts, croissants, and a few other little things. The tea helped their stomachs to accept the food. 

Sango was glad that Ukyo wasn't working that morning. It meant that she wouldn't have to deal with Miroku and Ukyo flirting, and she could get right down to business.

"How much do you know about Eve?" she asked suddenly, leaning back in her seat and pulling apart her croissant layer by layer.

Miroku eyed her warily. "Are you asking me this because I'm now a part of your investigation, or are you asking me how much I knew about her because you think I had some school boy crush on her because of her pretty looks and _not_ because I counted her as a friend? Is this an interrogation or a test?"

At first she was insulted at the idea that she would ever pry into his personal life like that before realizing that she would. If she had met the man who flirted with every girl who came his way and found out that he liked someone, she _would_ try and deter him from ruining some poor girl. Swallowing, the taste in her mouth bitter, she answered him. "It's an interrogation. It's all just part of the investigation."

"I see. Do you interrogate all of your character witnesses over donuts and bagels?"

"Only the ones I don't like enough to talk to over supper," she teased. Miroku grinned. He enjoyed being around Sango when she was in a good mood. Sango peeled off another flakeylayer of her croissant. "Actually, I rarely try to be alone with men when I interrogate them. Women, yes. I've gone out for coffee or tea, even sushi once, while I was talking with females, but I've only done it twice with a male, and it… it didn't go over so well. But I don't want to talk about that right now," she continued quickly, before Miroku could ask what had gone wrong.

"The reason why I'm asking you isn't to make you feel bad, Miroku, or bring up things that you're not quite yet ready to hear," she continued, looking down at her plate. Sango leaned in closer this time, her voice becoming soft and quiet. It was soothing. Miroku could imagine closing his eyes and drifting off to bed listening to that voice. "I'm asking you because we don't know anything at all about her past. We didn't do a background on check on Eve."

At the words 'background check' Miroku suddenly became suspicious. He set his breakfast down on his plate. "When you say 'background check' what exactly are you referring to? Do you think that… that Eve could have brought this on herself by somehow having links to the Yakuza or something?"

The expression on her face made him disgusted. It clearly said that while connections to the Japanese mafia had not been an angle she had though to yet, but that it warranted investigation. Groaning and rolling his eyes, Miroku got up to leave. "I don't need to sit here and listen to accusations about how some girl I like—who happens to be deceased as well—has involvements with mobs. I don't like criminals, Sango. Eve is—was—a nice girl. Just because I like her, you must think that she has some kind of defect that makes me attracted to her. Because you think I'm a pervert, and we only like the girls we can get. The ones who are prostitutes, or..."

"No! No, no, Miroku, that's not it at all!" she exclaimed, horrified.

He leaned his hands down on the table at their booth, looking at her. He scowled at her, and Sango felt nervous. She never remembered being affected by a scowl before, especially such a weak one like his. Miroku had a weak scowl. His face was meant for laughing, not for glaring at people disapprovingly.

"Then what is it, Sango?"

"I want a _genealogy_ check," she explained with a sigh. Putting down her croissant, Sango dusted off her hands and then looked up at Miroku. "I want a background check done on her ancestry, not on past transgressions. The second victim was also a girl, and happened to be a psychic on our registry files. We tried putting Eve's name in there to see if she was registered, but we've never tried putting in her family. As Akane suggested, if Eve's powers were passive, it means that she might not even be aware that she was a psychic and her family may not have told her about being witches because she didn't have traces of the Gift. I want a background check so we can see if she is related at all to witches. If she is, then…."

"Then we might be able to get a victim profile. The killer may only go after people with psychic power." Sango nodded and Miroku sat back down, taking a sip from his tea. Rather than looking upset, he looked just plain disgruntled. "Well, that would only narrow down his list of potential victims to about 1/3 of Japan."

Sango leaned over the table, her voice a hush. "And if she is a witch, then we may have a connection between the third and second victims. They may belong to the same circle, they may have…."

Miroku lifted his cool eyes to look at her. "You know this is a long shot, right?" She nodded. Forwning, he asked the other question that had been bugging him. "So why are you asking me about this plan? You're the self-proclaimed leader of our group. Shouldn't you just go ahead and do it?"

Sango shook her head, looking a little guilty and defeated. She disliked letting people know of her shortcomings, or those of her friends, and now she was doing both. "You and I can't go hacking into government files because we don't have the authorization. But senior officers _do_ have the clearance to phone up our members in the government and get them to do the research for us. Unfortunately, Kakashi is very recognizable and he's run into a few problems with the government members of the IBSP, so I don't think he'd be able to access the information for us. But Fuu, on the other hand, is a sweet senior agent. Therefore, she has the clearance and she also has the personality and the sex to win over the people in the government branch of the IBSP and get the information you want."

"So you're trying to tell me that the only reason why you told me about this was so that I could ask Fuu about it for us, because you believe that she'll listen to me more than she would you, since I'm her student…" Sango very slowly nodded. Miroku sighed rubbing his forehead. "Fine. I'll ask her when we head back to work. We… one sec. Phone."

Amused, she watched him reach into his pocket to pull out his cell phone. She smirked. She hadn't heard it ring, but her hearing was acute enough that she could hear it vibrate in his pocket. As she watched him flip it open, Sango smirked at him. "Your phone is on vibrate," she noted suggestively.

He wiggled his eyebrows at her, threatening to make her smile grow. "I know. I like it that way. Every time my phone rings, it's like this wonderful new feeling is building up inside of me." He opened the phone. "Hi, you've reached Miroku's cell phone… Oh." He coughed, suddenly losing his earlier tone and becoming professional, serious. "Good morning Mrs. Katsayumi."

'Katsayumi… Eve's mother?'

"Yes, of course I can. I'll be more than willing to talk to you. When would be a… yes, I see. No, I can be there the morning after tomorrow. Gladly, Mrs. Katsayumi." He smiled as he hung up the phone. "Remind me to order a bouquet of flowers for Eve's mother. I'm going over for an early luncheon with her two mornings from now. I'm quite surprised at you. Really, Sango! Making sexual innuendoes while I'm on the phone… It's so _unprofessional_."

"I'm going to kill you," Sango threatened. Her voice was heady enough that Miroku didn't know if she was teasing him or not. "By the way, the results came back from the scan you did through the Registry. No one matched our search a hundred percent, but there were a few close calls."

She paused, opening up the briefcase which was laying beside her. Sango pulled out a stack of papers three inches thick and let it slam on the counter. Miroku stared at it in surprise. Sango grinned, raising her cup to him in a mock toast.

"Those are the names, profiles, and addresses of everybody who came up with more than fifty percent compatibility with the things we requested."

"How many people are on this list?" he inquired, thumbing through the corner of the stack.

"How many people are attending your university?"

Miroku whistled in appreciation of the number. "So, we have a lot of gumshoe work to do right now. Want to… damn phone!" He reached into his pocket and pulled it out again. "Hello? Yes, sir! Yes, sir. No, sir. We can, sir."

She wondered who it was. The person on the other end seemed to be very blunt, and Miroku just responding politely now and again out of sheer politeness. He was very quick with his answers, and his eyes were wide. He was entirely devoted to the conversation, paying care to every word the person on the other end of the phone said. When he hung up after a succession of 'yes, sirs' and 'thank you, sirs', Miroku had a terrified expression on his face.

"Sesshomaru knows my cell-phone number," he gulped, looking at Sango wide-eyed.

"Wait… that was _Sesshomaru_?"

Miroku nodded. "Yeah. He wants us to head back the Bureau. Aparently they've discovered the identity of the first victim."

* * *

To be Continued

I'm feeling lazy today, so no long winded AN, just a few notes.

1) This update is brought to you by the letter N, the number 21, and Aamalie's birthday. (Happy Birthday!)

2) Hopefully, those of you who know Bleach will have recognized Urahara by the sandals, hat, can, green shirt, and the cat.

3) All those who asked on backgrounds for Sango/Urahra will get them... when I have time. So please, be patient.

4) Yes, I know, that's kind of a crappy place to end it, but I wanted to build tension.

5) as a preview for what's coming up: Ichigo and Rukia will be in the story again, just not for a little while. However, Inuyasha and Kagome will be making their appearances soon, and coming up next chapter is Wufei from Gundam Wing. Why Wufei? Because he's so often neglected.

The end. (_bows_)


	11. The Monks

The Monks

They all assembled in Sesshomaru's office… which was aptly located in his grand bedroom on the top floor. Miroku's fingers itched tot ouch everything he saw in the room. Sesshomaru, it turned out, had an expert collection of antiques. His room was practically a museum. Sango in the lead, Miroku slipped from the rear to look at the bookshelves.

'First additions!' he swooned, slipping on his glasses so that he could read the title. Some of the books went back three hundred years. A vase sat beside the books on the bookcase. Miroku was so close he could have seen the dust on it… but there wasn't any. Sesshomaru kept his books in pristine condition.

He was debating with himself how old the vase was when a hand clamped down on Miroku's shoulder. It felt like an iron band, it was that heavy and secure. Miroku experienced the sudden feeling of weightlessness before he found himself turned around so that he could see his so-called attacker face to face.

"You're breathing on my china," the elegant man growled.

With a gulp, Miroku balanced his weight. He had forgotten what a commanding presence Sesshomaru had. One look into the gold eyes of his superior and Miroku was casting his gaze to the floor. "I apologize, sir, but I was curious. I haven't seen such a large collection of paintings, books, and antiques in one place before. How long as it taken you to build up your collection?"

"A lifetime," he growled, turning Miroku around and marching the younger man to his office. A lifetime for Sesshomaru was a long time, Miroku reasoned, as the man was a full demon and had probably already been around for centuries. Sesshomaru continued marching even after he had slammed Miroku down into a chair.

Sensing something was wrong, Sango glared at Miroku while Sesshomaru opened a file folder on his desk. 'What did you do?' she mouthed at him. Miroku merely shrugged, trying to appear innocent.

Turning back to Sesshomaru, Sango mentally sighed. It was a shame that such a fine specimen of man should be a dog demon. Sesshomaru was quite beautiful. She stared at him, taking into account the way his fine silver hair and the way it framed his chin to his porcelain skin and the way it accented his dark eyelashes as he looked down at his desk. Sango could feel herself trying to smile as she imagined what it might look like when he was asleep, his hard features softening and….

Before she could disturb her own thoughts, he lifted his eyes and he looked right _at her_. Sango could feel herself drowning in pools of gold. The intensity of his gaze made her bones ache. He didn't need to use telepathy to warn her away. A simple glance of his eyes made Sango's mind turn off.

He _knew_.

Much to the surprise of her co-workers, Sango demurely lowered her head, conceding to Sesshomaru's silent demands. Sesshomaru picked up the first page from his file folder and began the briefing. "As it turns out, part of the problem why we couldn't identify the man was because he was a traveler. He isn't Japanese at all. He's Chinese."

Ranma snorted. He sounded bored and cruel. "And you couldn't figure it out by looking at him?"

He was met by a very furious and disgusted glare from Akane, who was sitting in the chair next to him. "We pulled him up from a body of water, you idiot," she hissed, clearly unimpressed with Ranma's tact. Her own brevity was going to put him in place sooner or later by making him feel stupid. Perhaps it was a cruel way to get Ranma to learn to keep his mouth shut, but Akane could think of no other way, nor did she have the patience for it at the moment.

"Do you _know_ what a body looks like after it's been in the ocean for two weeks, Saotome? The body was bloated, distorted, and decaying." Akane shuddered at the memory. She hadn't been able to eat for a week after seeing it—smelling it had actually been the problem—and it had taken her a day to take up the courage to get into the shower after she had remembered the water cycle from school. "It was so contorted beyond recognition that he didn't have a face. He didn't even have fingernails we could take an inkprint of because the skin had been eaten away and shriveled up. Imagine prune fingers that are two weeks old. We could barely even tell it was male, so pardon us and the forensics people for not being able to distinguish place of origin after two weeks of being prayed upon by flesh-eating fish like sharks and barracudas or god knows what, for two weeks of water breaking down his body, and… oh yes, for the fact that the man was ritually _disemboweled_ before hand!"

Clearly, Akane was mad. Ranma just stared at her, feeling incredibly guilty. "Oh."

"His name is Shi Xing Yuan," Sesshomaru continued, once Akane's outburst had passed.

"Sir?" Miroku asked tentatively. He was nervous about drawing attention to himself incase he incurred Sesshomaru's wrath for breathing on the other man's china. Miroku had gotten away lightly for poking around Sesshomaru's apartment, and Miroku knew that if their positions were reversed, he would have been quite mad that someone had been disturbing his personal collections.

Luckily, Sesshomaru merely looked up. He actually looked inconvenienced. Miroku wondered if he should have waited until after the briefing was finished to ask questions. Miroku decided that since he had already interrupted Sesshomaru, he would ask his question.

"Sir, if the body was so badly beyond recognition, then how do you know who it was?"

"Because, Miroku, a friend of the victim came to find us. As I turns out, Shi Xing Yuan was a Shaolin monk, visiting Japan to use our libraries for research." Sesshomaru leaned forward on his desk, his hands folding over one another and he leaned his chin on his wrists. Miroku personally thought he looked like a praying mantis. "He and one of the members of his temple were doing research into the Ming Dynasty and the use of the Shaolin art as a military defense during Japanese raids during that time. However, since the original temple was burned down in 1928 by warlord Shi Yousan, many of the documents he needed for his investigations were found here in Japan. He also, to be fair, wanted to look into the socio-economic position of Japan of the time to determine the cause for the need of raids on China."

Akane looked perplexed. "He sounds like a historian," she commented.

Sesshomaru nodded. "He does. In fact, he is a historian."

"Most Shoalin monks were once, long ago," Miroku commented with a shrug. "According to the history of the temple, Bodhidharma, an Indian monk, came over to China and found the monks so busy doing research and so deeply involved in scholasticism that they had forgotten their mental and physical exercises. According to the tale, it was Bodhidharma who introduced a regime or exercises into the monks, and it eventually grew into the style known as Kung Fu today."

Sango glanced at him, rather impressed, but curious, at Miroku's display of knowledge.

"And as a historian, it was important that he keep in contact with his partner in China. After a month went by without hearing a word from Shi Xing Luan, his partner came here to speak to me, hoping that we had a trace on his whereabouts."

Akane looked more perplexed. "Why would the Bureau keep tabs on a Shaolin monk?"

"Because," the headman of the IBSP said, looking at them all in turn. "Shi Xing Luan was a demon."

Terse silence followed, and then Miroku spoke. "A… a _monk_ demon?"

Hearing the disbelief in his voice, Sango whipped around, pointing a finger at him accusingly. "Don't take that tone! Don't you _dare_ take that tone!" Miroku opened his mouth to protest, but Sango continued, scarcely believing that she was having this conversation in front of a fully grown full demon.

"You think just because most demons tend to be all about killing people and drinking blood and human sacrifices that they can't do normal things? That they can't do spectacular things, like become monks? You know as well as I do that the government has documents saying that they won't keep anyone from a job because of gender, sexual orientation, _or_ birthright!"

Miroku ignored her and turned to Sesshomaru. "She's right, sir. I apologize for implying anything for my tone… but you must admit, that it is a little funny. It's… It's a little bit like imagining Dracula being a nurse. There's something unexpected about it that makes it amusing."

"Regardless." Miroku wondered if he had been imagining a sigh of annoyance. He hoped he had, because he didn't particularly relish the idea of Sesshomaru being annoyed with him. "His co-writer is waiting with Master Kakashi. I want two of you to ask him questions, find out all you can about the victim from his friend."

"I'll do it. Miroku will help me," Akane reported. She glanced at Miroku, who nodded in agreement. "We already went and interviewed Katsayumi-san. We seem to work well together when dealing with people when they are in grief. Besides, we also have a few leads of demons with medical backgrounds or with violent backgrounds. Ranma and Sango would be perfect for handling that. Ranma can watch Sango's back, and Sango has the best bluff of anyone I have ever met."

"Very well," Sesshomaru agreed. He leaned back in his chair. "You are dismissed. I will tell Kakashi-san to bring Wufei-san up into my office. Akane and Miroku, you may use this office for your interview. Wufei-san is a prestigious guest. I don't want to stick him in the interrogation room, nor do you have an office of your own, therefore… you may use mine." His gold eyes narrowed at Miroku. "Touch anything other than pen and paper and I _will_ know."

Miroku swallowed nervously.

"And please, Sango and Miroku, remain behind for a moment. I wish to speak to you privately."

Akane and Ranma filed out, shooting their partners their condolences. Sango didn't notice. She was too busy glaring at Miroku, wondering what he did to make Sesshomaru want to speak with them in private. Miroku was trying to remember to breath as he heard the door click and watch Sesshomaru's predatory eyes turn to look at him.

"Miroku…" He braced himself for a harsh reprimanding.

"Are you feeling all right?"

The question completely took him by surprise. He stared at Sesshomaru, and found that he looked not only serious, but actually concerned. Miroku's whole world had just turned upside down. He forced himself to nod his head yes, that he was feeling all right, if a bit dizzy from having just been shown a shred of emotion from his superior.

"No more visions? No more heart problems or headaches or anything?" Miroku kept shaking his head, barely hearing the question. Sesshomaru smiled at him. Miroku was astounded to see that his normally reserved boss actually could smile. "Good. The good doctors were concerned that you might be having some lingering side effects. If you do start having headaches or heart problems, I want you to see them immediately."

"Yes, sir…. Wait." He had finally processed what questions Sesshomaru had asked and was about to rectify his answers by telling his boss that he had had another vision, but judging from the way his gaze had shifted to Sango, he wasn't going to be listening.

Sesshomaru stared at Sango, who glared defiantly back at him. Miroku wanted to groan in dismay at it. Sango was going to get herself in trouble. He knew that she was. He had become all the concerned with the way she held her chin stubbornly and how her body became as stiff as wood when she became defensive. Miroku could practically hear their teeth grinding against each other as they waited for each other to back down.

"I'll just… let myself out." He rolled his eyes and excused himself, leaving the two of them alone.

As soon as he was gone, Sesshomaru broke the staring match by speaking first. "You shouldn't be here," he told her sternly, leaving his desk to walk to the mini bar and pour himself a shot. Sango remained silent. When his glass was full, he turned back to her. "You're risking a lot by staying with them."

"I'd risk it more by leaving them. I'm not going to risk this operation falling apart because I needed to take a week off."

"I think that you're trying too hard to justify your position in the team, Miss Tora. If you go away for a few days, the team won't fall apart, nor will the case end. Your partner has gone through the training you have. She can lead as well as you can. I don't think that Miroku would allow this case to fall apart, as he has a personal interest in it. You're the one who is showing the greatest immaturity in your group, Miss Tora."

Her eyes narrowed at him, watching him drown his shot in a large gulp. His tone had caused her heart rate to increase and for her adrenaline levels to rise in preparation for a verbal fight. "What do you mean?"

Sesshomaru poured himself another glass and began walking back to his desk. "You see, Miss Tora, that right now, you are not yourself. Your critical analysis skills are deteriorating quickly because of your hormonal state. It's a dangerous time to be going around interviewing demons."

Sango quickly stood up. "Thanks for your concern, but it's unwarranted. We'll have backup anywhere we go, so even if some big dumb, drooling demons gets a whiff of me, I can take care of myself, and I'll have one of my partners to help me fight off some random demon. Good day, Sir."

"Miss Tora!" he barked, slamming his drink down on the table so hard the drink spilled and the glass cracked. Sango froze where she was. "I have not dismissed you! Sit back down in that chair!" When she remained standing, his eyes narrowed. "_Now_!"

Though she wanted to leave, Sango sat back down. Sesshomaru pulled out a handkerchief and mopped up his spilled drink before he continued. "Your own judgment is difficult to trust at this time. How do you know if you're doing something out of logic, or out of desire? It's not that I don't think you may not be able to defend yourself. I've seen you fight. You would be able to defend yourself, of that I am sure. It is your logic of which I am uncertain. Therefore, until you are at a better frame of mind, I'm temporarily relieving you of this case."

She was in shock. Sango shot back out of her chair, protesting. "You can't do that!"

"On the contrary, I have every right to do it, Miss Tora. You may regain the case with your friends once your time has finished."

"No, I mean you _can't_ do that!" she growled, leaning over the desk. She was trying to intimidate Sesshomaru without even realizing it. Her voice was no longer mad, but frank, and she dropped all forms of politeness. "We're dealing with someone violent and dangerous, Sesshomaru. We're not supposed to go anywhere alone. Am I honestly supposed to just vanish and let Ranma go off and interrogate criminals by himself?"

She wasn't getting through to him. Seshsomaru looked unimpressed by her logic, so Sango changed tactics. She went from arguing to bargaining. "Give me until tomorrow! I'll leave tomorrow! I'll tell them that I need a day off, some time by myself to cool off… we could all need it. I know that I could study for my last exam. I'm sure that Miroku would like some time to study for his. It will reach its peak by tomorrow. That way, I'll be far away when it's at it's worst, and I won't feel like I'm abandoning my partners!"

He was silent as he thought about her offer. Eventually, he inclined his head. "Very well. By tomorrow afternoon, I want you to be gone." Sango saluted him, making him wonder if she was mocking him. He smiled to himself as she left. She was far too much like her mother at times.

* * *

"May I inquire about something?" 

Akane looked up from the portfolio she had been reading about Shi Xing Laun. Miroku was leaning back in his chair, dangerously close to falling over. Akane cringed when she thought about what would happen if Miroku tipped over and broke the chair, but she thought it was cute he was looking up at the skylight. It was the only window in the room.

"You can ask anything you like, Miroku," Akane said politely, returning to the portfolio.

"It's about Sango."

Somehow, that didn't surprise Akane, but at the same time, it did. She had always guessed that eventually Miroku would come and ask her questions about her partner, but she apparently hadn't prepared herself for it. This time when she put down the portfolio she closed it to concentrate on Miroku. "And what would you like to know about Sango?"

He paused, choosing his words carefully. He lifted his head from the back of the chair, all four legs of his setting spot touching ground again. Akane felt a little relieved. When his deep eyes settled on her, her relief turned to nervousness. He looked like he was trying to unravel a mystery. She had seen that focused expression before, namely while Sango was hunched over some book, trying to understand sex-linked genes or some other weird science thing.

"I figured that you might be able to answer my question, because you're Sango's partner. Have you ever thought that…" He paused. He was clearly a little nervous about his question himself. Miroku took a deep breath. "Have you ever thought that Sango might be a demon?"

"What makes you say that?"

"Well…" He nervously ran his hands through his hair. When he realized that he had messed up his ponytail, he winced and began to fix it as he spoke. "For one thing, she's always standing up for them and defending them to me, as if thinking that our killer was a demon was some kind of sign that I'm prejudice or something. Whenever I say so much as 'Registry Files' she looks at me like I'm automatically assuming that because these murders are so ghastly, that there's no way a human could do it." He finally secure his hair again, his arms falling uselessly into his lap. "It's rather insulting."

Akane shrugged, ruffling through some papers to keep her hands busy. "Maybe Sango's just a little defensive. I know that I could be the same way when, for instance, someone assumes that because someone uses poison, it means that the killer must be female."

Miroku looked at her inquisitively and she elaborated for him with a strained sigh. "Most people assume that because women tend not to be as physically inclined as men, poison is their method of choice. After all, it takes very little upper body strength to open a vial of poison and pour it into a drink, now doesn't it?"

They stared at each other, and Akane rolled her eyes. "Miroku I can assure you that Sango isn't ademon. For one, does she look like a demon to you?"

"Well, she doesn't have any face markings, claws, or fangs," he agreed. He paused. "Are you certain she's not a full demon? I've heard that there are ones who can take on human shape or disguise themselves."

"Even the strongest full demons are never human looking. Look at Seshsomaru. Maybe if I was losing my eyesight, I'd call him human, but he's too… otherworldly to be able to qualify as some normal, random human. And even if she was using an illusion, I would still know. I've watched her grow up since we met in school, Miroku. No illusion is good enough to keep day and night for all those years. Trust me: Sango is not a full demon."

At her promise, Miroku relaxed. "Okay. Good. I was worried that…"

Before he could finish, someone knocked on the door. Akane told them they could come in. Miroku stopped talking to rise from his seat in front of the desk, politely standing to greet their guest. Wufei walked into the office, led by Kakashi, who left the man there and shut the door behind them.

Miroku was a little surprised to see that Wufei was an old man. He looked to be in his sixties. He was in very good shape for being six decades old, though his eyes seemed weak as he squinted about, and his shaved head revealed a receding hair line. When he saw Akane and Miroku, he smiled, revealing laugh lines.

"Hello. My. You two certainly are younger than I had expected."

Akane blushed. She had also risen to meet him. She extended her hand to the open chair before her. "Please, sir, sit."

"Thank you." He politely bowed his head, accepting the seat. The cane he was using tapped the ground when he walked, but when he sat, he folded his hand over it. Only then did Miroku and Akane sit as well. "Your boss has a fine collection here."

"He does," Miroku agreed. "I had never seen it before today. It took me a little by surprise."

"You are young. The young surprise easily. They think they know everything, when in reality, they know very little. Hence, when they find out that what they believed is incorrect, they are astounded and shocked." Wufei smiled kindly at Miroku.

Behind the desk, Akane suppressed a smile. She held a pen at the ready, her duty to take notes of what was said. It also meant that she would be able to enjoy watching Miroku struggle with trying to weed information out of Wufei. Judging from her first impression, the gentleman wasn't going to be easy to outwit. Wufei clearly had a wisdom about him, and Akane would wager that Miroku's sharp mind would be no match for years of experience.

However, much to her surprise, Miroku took Wufei's slight reprimanding in stride, as if it were all part of his plot to slide the subject matter to Shi Xing Luan.

"Then please, enlighten us to your friend. I know very little about him. How did you two meet?"

Akane was highly impressed.

"We met at the monastery," Wufei reported. "I was there doing research. He lived there."

"Then you are not a Shaolin monk yourself?"

Wufei shook his head. "I am not a monk, though I do live in the monastery with them." He smiled, revealing the laugh lines etched in his cheeks. "I suppose they accept me because I am quiet and unmarried. I never met a woman who would allow me to love books before her. No, sir, I am a scholar. I enjoy studying religious history, language…"

Miroku's blue eyes sparkled with life as he leaned forward. "I'm majoring in history, with a minor in religion. Tell me, do you focus on…"

"Miroku," Akane warningly interrupted. She hid her smile at the two of them. She couldn't have made a better choice to talk to Wufei. They both understood each other, but this was not the time for debating history. They had a job to do.

"You two are business associates?" he inquired, returning to his queries.

"We write together, if that can be considered business associates. We are friends first and foremost, however, and student and teacher after that."

That was when Miroku made a critical error in his investigation. He had not seen the body of Shi Xing Laun. After meeting Wufei, and hearing about their student-teacher relationship, he assumed that Wufei had been the teacher. He was, after all, wise, and he was also plainly getting on in age.

"You were his teacher then?"

"No… it was the other way around, clearly, as Shi was fifteen years older than I…" His voice trailed off. His dark eyes narrowed and he glanced around them suspiciously. "What is going on here? How did you find my friend's body if you did not know he was older than I? Why Sesshomaru-sama not allow me to take the body back for a proper burial service? Why is there all this secrecy concerning the death of my friend?"

Akane was hanging her head in shame, knowing that they had just given away their superior position. She had forgotten to brief Miroku on the state of the body. There was no way he could have known that Shi Xing Luan would be _such_ an anomaly in the killer's victim profile? After killing two younger, pretty girls attending university, how was he supposed to be able to deduce that the first victim was a seventy-six year old monk from China?

No one had answered Wufei yet. He slammed his stick on the ground to get their attention. "I would please like some answer. I am tired of cryptic answer and chiasmus. I would please like some answers!" he added again, this time with more emphasis.

The two agents looked at each other. When they remained silent, Wufei picked himself up. He was practically glaring at them, though his failing eyes meant that he was a little uncertain as to where their faces were.

"Seeing as how your Bureau seems to enjoy keeping secrets so much, I will allow you to keep them."

And Wufei turned to walk out of the room.

* * *

"How did the gumshoe work go?" Akane asked as she and Sango ate a quiet dinner that evening. They sat in the cafeteria of the Bureau. They didn't particularly care where Miroku and Ranma were, nor did they care. They were going to have an evening for themselves again. 

Sango shrugged. "Not too bad. Turns out that our files need some updating though. The first guy we checked out is apparently in a mental institution. The second was a proctologist." She sighed. "I think we should have narrowed down the search to anyone with a career in surgery rather than a doctor's license. Next thing you know it'll turn out that third person on our list is a dentist."

Her friend laughed. "I can see the headlines now! 'Rogue Dentist Pulls Entrails'."

Sango merely snorted. She poked the peas around on her plate. She still didn't have her normal appetite back. "Yeah, but we have a good lead for tomorrow morning. Not only does Miroku have to go and see Eve's mother again, but we have some great leads from the proctologist. It turns out one of is patients happens to be his friend from medical school." She hushed her voice and leaned over the table.

"Turns out that his friend is a surgeon. Not the normal surgery, mind you. I'm talking cosmetic surgery. That's probably why the guy was so far down on the list. His name didn't come up until the fifties, so it's only a fifty-percent chance that he's related to the killer, unlike the proctologist who somehow managed to have an eighty-five percent chance of being related to the killer. But what makes things interesting is that his wife is a witch."

Akane blinked, looking inquisitive. "Why would that make things interesting? I think a demon and a witch getting together is a fine match."

"Yeah, but something you said began to make me think. You said that Shi Xing Luan had been _ritually_ disemboweled." The gold sheen in her eyes began to glow, her lips curving up in a deadly smile. "I think you were on to something. Maybe all this time, I've been thinking about it the wrong way. What if it was ritualistic? What if there's some kind of larger purpose to it?"

She shrugged. "Then whatever larger purpose there is to it," she said practically, "it can wait until I finish my supper." Akane took a ravenous bite of vegetables before she looked at Sango. Sango was trying to saw through the slab of meat on her plate. When she managed to saw through it, she grimaced when she saw that it had been very well-cooked. Akane decided to distract her friend before Sango could complain that her meat wasn't rare enough. "Miroku was asking about you today."

"Was he?" Akane thought her friend sounded disinterested at the news. She wondered if Sango has registered what she had sad. "And what was our local pervert asking about today?"

"Your heritage." That caught Sango. She put down her fork, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. She blinked, trying to remain cool and not give into the worm of fear starting to crawl around her heart. Akane smiled at her, easing over her fears. "Don't worry. I didn't tell him anything. I just told him that there was no way you were a full demon."

Sango was quiet. She stared at the meat o her plate, and eventually pushed it away. She had lost all interest in the idea of relaxing with Akane. She lay her head on the metal cafeteria table, allowing the coldness of the metal to cool down her warm face.

"He's too smart for his own good," Sango muttered.

Akane heard her, nodding. "And he could charm the throne out from under the devil himself. You better watch yourself, Sango. I know you value your privacy, but something tells me that he's as curious as you when he gets going. If he really wants to know what you're hiding, he'll find out. It may be better to just come out and tell him. He _is_ our partner, after all."

Sango sighed, closing her eyes and covering her head with her arms. "I'll think about it."

* * *

AN: The background for Shaolin monks was taken from Wikipedia. I'd love to claim that I actually knew it… but alas, I focus more on Western Europe and Classical history.

In regards to this new rule about responding to AN's... enclose your email address (if you don't have an account) and please _indicate_ if you would like a response. If so, I'll fool around with... oh... backrub. (_drools_) Anyway, I'll fool around with Yahoo until I can make a mailing list and mail the responses back.


	12. The First Suspect

**The First Suspect**

Miroku journeyed the following morning to Ms. Katsayumi's house. Sango drove him there, and she then remained in the house, sitting across from Miroku and Eve's mother and listening intently to their conversation. At first she had been incredibly bored as she listened to stories of how Miroku had first met Eve, but she was fascinated by the way that Miroku's well-placed comments were able to get Ms. Katsayumi to become more and more sociable. Before she could believe it, he had her laughing as she remembered fondly things Eve used to do as a little child, or people she used to play with.

"No, Eve was a little hellion when she was a little girl," the older lady laughed. "She was always getting into trouble with her cousin." She sighed, her tone become sad as she picked up her tea and took a sip. "She might have had more friends when she was younger if she had been a little more social in school. She found it very hard to make friends."

"Then would it be safe to say that she had a lot of enemies?" Sango inquired. The lady shook her head, laughing. Miroku was shoot her a warning look from his spot next to Eve's mother on the couch. However, he had done such a splendid job of making the lady feel at ease that she never made the connection from Eve's death to Sango's question.

"My Eve? Have enemies? No… the closest she came to enemy was a boy she met in University who was throwing off the bell curve in her history classes by scoring very high marks and by constantly flirting with her. She actually thought very highly of him though. What was his name again?" She tapped her chin, and then snapped her fingers when she recalled the name. "It was Mir…" She stopped immediately, and looked at Miroku, who was blushing deeply. Katsayumi merely smiled at him. "She was right. She did say you were cute."

Obviously a little uncomfortable with the subject, Miroku decided to change topics. "This cousin of hers, Eve spoke of her very fondly to me. I was wondering exactly who she was. Is she related to Eve through your side of the family?"

Katsayumi shook her head. "No. They're related through her father. I have a picture of the two of them together, if you would like to see it." Miroku shook his head and she left to go and find the photo album.

As soon as she had left, the two agents looked at each other. Miroku rose from his spot on the couch to come up behind Sango chair, leaning over her to read the notes she had made in their conversation. So far it wielded very little information.

"I'll try to get the actual photo album… we can run the faces through the database," he promised her. His words warmed the back of her neck, exposed by her high ponytail.

Then Sango made the mistake of turning in her chair to look at him with the intention of politely answering him face-to-face. They were so close that her nose brushed his when she turned. She could feel his breath on her lips, and she her reflection in the glasses he was wearing to read. He looked good in glasses. She liked the way that they seemed to accentuate his eyes and the curve of his face. Her gaze slipped down from her glasses to his lips. They weren't chapped from fever anymore. His chin was still smooth shaven. He looked good. She wondered would it would be like to kiss him now that he was in a good mood and he didn't have stubble to scrape her skin.

She could hear his breathing. He didn't sound as rhythmic as it normally did.

"Here it is…" Ms. Katsayumi had her nose in a photo album when she rounded the corner, but she still looked up in time to see Sango and Miroku before they jumped away from each other. She smiled at them both, looking suspicious as Miroku returned to his seat. "Are you certain that you two aren't dating each other?" she inquired. When they had first arrived together on her doorstep, she had been a little sad that it wasn't sweet Akane with Miroku. However, after studying them a moment, she noticed that there was a certain… _feeling_ between them. She had thought it was because they were sweethearts, to which both of them had heartily disagreed.

"We're certain, Ms. Katsayumi," Sango said.

"Oh… you know, if you two ever decide to get together, then you would be a very fine looking couple." She sat down on the couch and opened the photo album for Miroku to look at, spreading it over their laps. Ms. Katsayumi was about to start explaining who the people were in the pictures when she paused, looking across at Sango. "Wouldn't you like to see too, dear?"

Sango smiled. "Actually, I would very much like to see hat your family looks like, Ms. Katsayumi." She set down her pen and notepaper. The only place left open on the couch where she would be able to see the pictures was beside Miroku. She sat down, only hesitating when she felt his blazer brush hers. She could feel the warmth of his body again. The air around him seemed weak and stale.

For all the smiles and reassuring gestures he gave Katsayumi, Sango could feel what was really going on with him. Kagura's herbs didn't seem to be working. If he was sleeping, then he wasn't getting decent sleep. The bags under his eyes testified to that. If he was regaining his appetite, he wasn't doing it fast enough. She could see his fingers shake when he went to pick up his teacup.

"I had never seen Eve smile. She looks pretty that way," she commented, finding herself face with the picture of an eight year old girl. Eve was hugging a stuffed Anne of Green Gables doll, the freckles Miroku had found in death standing out vibrantly in her youth. Her hair was still long, worn in two ropey braids, though it had been lighter in her youth, the color of dark sand. It must have darkened as she grew up. She wore a school girl uniform, and her grin was so broad the color of her eyes was undeterminable.

"She was a very happy girl. That was on her birthday. We had just given her the doll." Miroku reached over and wrapped an arm around her thin shoulders when he heard the strain in her voice to hold back her tears. She pointed to the smiling man in the following picture. He held Eve on his shoulders. The freckles were from his side of the family. Her darker hair she got from her mother, as this man's hair was also sandy-blonde. "My husband. He's returned to work." She sighed heavily, her voice cracking. "I wish he would have stayed here with me, but we all must mourn in our own ways. He's left for work early and come back later than normal. I don't think… that he wants to see me mourn."

She couldn't take it anymore. Closing her eyes, she covered her face with her hands, tears trickling down her cheeks and she quietly began to cry. "I'm… I'm sorry. I want to help… but… I don't think I can take much more of this. Sometimes… sometimes the phone rings and I keep expecting to hear her voice on the other end of the line, asking if I can bring her all of her favorite sweets because she's so stressed out from studying."

To allow Miroku room, Sango pulled the photo album from their laps, so that Miroku could wrap both arms around Ms. Katsayumi. The grateful parent wept on his shoulder. Sango began to clean up the tea cups, knowing that they shouldn't stay. She felt rude, interrupting people's mourning. In her opinion, mourning should be a family affair. Seeing Katsayumi's grief first hand ashamed Sango. It made her feel like she was snooping into something private.

From the kitchen she could hear Miroku make soothing noises, followed by Katsayumi thanking him for something. She deduced it was a handkerchief when she heard the mother blow her nose a moment later.

"We all deal with grief in our own way," he told her. "Don't be sorry. I think that for putting up with us as much as you did was brave. Not many people would be so willing to deal with us so soon after the incident occurred."

"Not many people have insanity in their families…" she muttered. "How do you mourn, Miroku?"

There was a long pause. Sango was surprised at the tension in his voice when he finally answered her. "I don't know. I've never had to mourn for anyone I've known very well in my life. Eve is the first friend I've ever lost. I've been very lucky that way. But I will find out as soon as I close this case. I don't want my grief to interfere with my work. When I'm done… I… I would very much like to mourn with someone."  
Sango poked her head out of the kitchen. Katsayumi was drying her eyes with a fresh hanky. Miroku was staring at her, his blue eyes understanding. He looked like he had the face of an angel, like he could understand anything. Her hand was in both of his as he did what he could to console her. Sango was beginning to understand what Akane had meant when she had commented that Miroku could charm the devil off of his throne.

"Would you like to know what would really help us right now, Ms. Katsayumi?" She nodded, and Miroku lifted one of his hands to place it on the photo album. "This would help us. It would help us give faces to some of Eve's friends and family members. May we take this with us so that we can photocopy some of the pictures? I will personally guarantee its return within forty-eight hours."

"Yes, yes," she nodded, almost as if Miroku's deep voice had put her into a trance. "Of course you can take it. Here… just let me show you the picture I was thinking of." She took the photo album from him and flipped through it until she found the picture of Eve and her cousin. She held it out for Miroku to see.

"Eve was nine in the picture. Her cousin's twelve in it. Eve's hair still hadn't darkened by then." Sango was impressed to see that she wasn't looking at the picture. Miroku stood, the photo album in his hands. She knew this from memory. Mothers were amazing. "They looked so much alike when they were little…."

Miroku found nine year old Eve staring up at him, smiling with her blazing freckles. Her arm was swung over the shoulders of her older cousin. It looked like a wedding. Both of them were wearing cute little dresses with gloves. He could see the ear of a teddy bear laying just out of the shot of the picture. Tulips were growing in the background.

"It was taken here. Hitomi always used to come over and play with Eve. They were closer than sisters. She didn't mind dressing up and playing tea party with Eve. Those two had impossible imagination. A tea party would quickly turn into some intricate plot of cops and robbers, and Eve would always ask Hitomi to read her cards for her. Hitomi received a package of Tarot cards from her grandmother when she was seven or so. She was always accurate with them…."

He wasn't listening anymore. Even Sango was barely listening as she watched Miroku starting to sway on his feet.

It wasn't the picture of Eve and her cousin which had caught his interest. It was the picture right after it. A grinning couple stood in front of a house that seemed so picturesque he surmised it had to be brand new. The woman held a sleeping baby in her arms. Judging by the freckles clustered over the nose of the little girl, she was also on Eve's father's side of the family. There was a hope and… _newness_ to the picture, from the face of the sleeping angel to the way that the male was turned slightly, so that instead of smiling at the camera, he was smiling solely down on his wife, his hazel eyes full of pride.

As he stared at it, the feeling of _newness_ slowly drifted away. In it's place was a feeling of dread. Miroku, he knew, was having one of his visions; not one of the new ones, one of the old ones, where all he got was very vague feelings. From the picture he could feel warmth and happiness… but they faded away into loneliness. And then something new struck him that surprised him so much he fell back, dropping the photo album to catch himself on the ground.

He could hear.

His eyes were blind as Katsayumi and Sango rushed to help him up. He could still see them, but his mind was in another place. Sango allowed him to lean his weight on her. She was surprised at how light he was. Sango was strong, and Miroku was a well-built man…but she weighed far less than she thought he would have.

"We should call an ambulance," Ms. Katsayumi said.

She wondered if Miroku could hear her when she felt him shudder, no doubt realizing that ambulances would mean more needles.

"That's quite alright, Ms. Katsayumi. He has these spells, now and again… he'll be just fine. I'll drive him home and take him to bed…" She blushed when she realized that her innocent comment could have been taken sexually. "I mean, I'll lay him down so that he can rest, and he'll be right as rain before you know it."

Her overly sweet and cute act was making her teeth hurt. She mentally yelled at Miroku. He better not be having one of his visions where he started vomiting and having heart attacks and… if she had to pull over her car and start conducting CPR because he had the most inopportune moments to start having visions, and then he _died_ on her because she didn't carry a defribulator in the car, she was going to be very pissed!

"Are you certain?" asked Ms. Katsayumi. She picked up the photo album, carrying it out to the car so that Sango could help Miroku out. She was relieved to see he was able to walk under his own power. Whatever he was seeing, it wasn't so debilitating that he couldn't walk. The fact offered Sango little comfort.

"Yes, it will all be fine…" She dropped Miroku into his seat in the Hyundai. He did up his seat belt himself. With a courteous bow of respect, she accepted the photo album from Eve's mother before she opened the driver's side door. "I'll have him call you as soon as he's feeling well so you don't have to worry about him."

"Yes. Yes, that would be nice, dear." She missed how Sango bristled at being called 'dear'. She didn't recall ever having been called 'dear' before.

Sango started the motor and pulled out of the drive way. After three blocks of constantly casting her eyes over to the other side of the car, her ears attuned to his breathing and heartbeat to make sure they both still existed, Miroku groaned. As soon as she heard he was waking up she pulled the car over.

"Where are we?"

"In my car, on a street corner, and _you_…" Sango growled, looking around for something to hit him with. She only hand her purse. She smacked his arm with it lightly. Sango felt a little bad when he said 'ow' and rubbed his arm. "You had me worried."

He was silent at her confession. Sango? Sango the great heartless junior agent with a mind so analytical it was unfathomable? She had been worried about him? He looked over at her. Her face was flushed. She was biting her bottom lip apprehensively. She really did look worried. He had the sudden urge to lean over and give her a kiss on her cheek. He refrained from doing so, though barely.

"Why would you be worried about me?"

"You were having a vision or something… I didn't want to call an ambulance in case they found something in your file which was abnormal… I should have though. I should have called one of ours. I apologize for not…"

He smiled at her, though it was strained. "Don't worry. It wasn't one of _those_ visions. It was one I normally get. No chance of me doing anything weird there." His voice fell away. "But…"

"But what?" Sango inquired.

"Well… I think you're right. I think that my powers are expanding a little. I don't ever recall being able to hear things in my normal visions, but in this one I could hear things. It sounded like humming… no, more like a buzzing."

Bad memories resurfaced in Sango's mind...She ignored them. She didn't need to be reminded of how she had found Eve's body. Besides, she was certain that Miroku didn't mean he had heard flies in his vision. He'd probably seen a picture of someone in the photo album and had a vision of them being a beekeeper or something.

"You feeling okay?" she asked, sounding gruffer than she had wanted.

"Yeah. I'll pull through…" He groaned again, leaning his head against the seat and rubbing his forehead. "I have a pounding headache though… I don't suppose you happen to have something doused with sugar and completely unhealthy, do you? My body likes having sugar after a vision… I feel weak, but a candy will tie me over usually."

Sango shook her head. "Sorry. I don't carry stuff like that with me… but Kakashi normally has mints in this car. Check the glove compartment."

Miroku leaned forward and opened the glove compartment. Sure enough, there was a bag of mints hidden in there. He smiled, opening the bag and popping one into his mouth. "That'll work…"

"Good. So long as you're feeling well, I want to check something out in this area of town. There's a half-demon around here named Inuyasha. He's a surgeon, and his wife is a witch. I was thinking that we could check the place out." She started up the car again. Miroku, it seemed, didn't have a choice.

They drove in silence, though it wasn't very far. Miroku tried to distract himself by thinking about anything but the feeling of loneliness in his vision. There had been fear too. Though he had seen nothing, only felt emotions, and though the buzzing sounds could have been anything, he had trouble shaking away the memories of his vision. He had half a mind to go back and ask Katsayumi if the people in the picture had lost their child recently… but if they hadn't, he would feel awful worrying her, and there was no blunt way of asking such a difficult question. The feelings he had picked up on were probably just feelings regarding the death of Eve. Surely by now the rest of the family knew, after all…

The car was in the narrow driveway when Sango reached the house. She pulled up behind it, parking it behind the other car. She stared at the house, a little surprised at it. When she had heard that the man was supposed to be a surgeon with the hands of God, she had been expecting… something else. Like an acre of land surrounded by a three foot thick rock wall topped with barbed wire and a sleek, black BMW parked with an array of other expensive cars.

The truth was that his house was a one level house with a bay window laced with frilly curtains. Yellow and pink flower grew beneath the window. There was a chimney poking out of the roof of the house. There was no garage. The only fence on the property was a wooden fence that closed off the backyards. Both of them stared at the house.

"Think anyone's home?"Miroku snorted.

Sango looked at one of the smaller windows. She saw a flash of brown hair before a blue curtain swung closed. She gestured to it with a nod of her head. "There's someone home."

Both of them got out of the car, pausing when the heard the sound of something heavy striking something that sounded a little like wood. Miroku remembered the way it sounded when he had climbed wooden fences as a kid and his feet had struck the wooden planks. Sango thought of breaking boards in martial arts classes. When they heard the sound again, both of them were able to identify it.

"Wood chopping," they both said in unison. Miroku grinned at her, making Sango blush. He continued. "Sounds like it's coming from the back of the house."

They went around the corner of the house to check. Sure enough, the sounds grew louder. Sango could even hear someone huffing with the effort of breaking wood. The door leading to the backyard was slightly ajar. Sango didn't even think about Miroku groping her when she leaned over to peer into the back of the yard.

"Oh," she breathed. Her eyes widened at the sight in front of her. "Wow…"

Miroku was struggling to figure out a way to see into the backyard as well without pushing the door open more and making themselves visible. He braced himself against the wooden fence and used his height to lean over Sango. His chest pressed into her back. She didn't move away from him. When he saw what was going on in the backyard, he realized she was too preoccupied to really care.

In the backyard a man was, sure enough, chopping wood. Sango eyed him hungrily, watching his muscles move and contract under marble skin as he lifted the heavy axe. His broad hands gripped the handle tightly. They were sturdy looking, masculine hands. His hair was long and dark, almost the same length as Miroku's. His was tied back as he worked. His black bangs were plastered to his forehead with sweat. They contrasted against his pale skin. So too did his lashes contrast, making the dark lashes framing his eyes all the more visible and appealing.

His lips were parted as he breathed in heavily. His mouth was sculpted into a natural pout, set into a stubborn chin. Sweat beaded on his face, and his torso. Sango's eyes hungrily watched his muscles as they tightened, gazing over his smooth pectorals and the definition of six pack. Silver hair circled his belly button, as pale as his skin, and it darkened as it continued down. His tight jeans concealed the rest of him, but it left very little to the imagination. Sango was certain the man had legs better looking than hers.

Miroku glanced down at Sango, then at the man, and felt a stab of jealousy. Was this the kind of guy whom Sango found attractive? Some muscle-bound guy chopping wood with looks that had come out of a trashy romance novel? Add on the fact that he was also a surgeon and the man seemed almost perfect: looks, brawn, and brains. The only thing that the man had going against him…

He grinned cruelly, backing off and tapping Sango on her shoulder. She didn't turn to see him, but he knew that he had her attention. "Better look somewhere else Sango, unless you _want_ to be known as a home wrecker. He's married, remember?"

"I also have great senses, so stop listening in at the doorway and come on in already," the man growled.

Miroku didn't remember ever seeing Sango blush so deeply. Wasn't _he_ good enough to make her blush? They both walked into the backyard, Sango in the lead. Miroku bitterly closed the door behind them.

She only seemed to care about him whenever he might die on her. 'Probably because I'm the only link she has into finding the victims of the killer before it's too late. If she loses me, she loses her promotion. I'm just a job to her…'

Sango was unaware of his bitter thoughts as she approached Inuyasha, fishing out her wallet and flashing him her identification. "Sango Tora, IBSP."

"IBSP, huh?" He glanced between them, his nose sniffing the air. He put down the axe and leaned on it. "Word of advice, gumshoes. Don't try sneaking into my backyard from upwind." He eyed them again, his gaze lingering on Miroku. He wondered if it was because he was a guy or if he was accidentally shooting Inuyasha looks which clearly read 'stay away from Sango!' "You two mind if I change?"

'What?' Miroku wondered. 'Change? Change what? Hopefully put on a shirt!'

"Not at all," Sango said sweetly. He had never heard her talk so warmly before.

Before he could reflect on it, Inuyasha did… _change_. His hair became silvery-white, the contrast between his hair and skin lessened. However, his thick eyebrows were still dark, and his lashes seemed as black as ever. Before Miroku had thought Inuyasha looked a bit plastic, but now Inuyasha looked expressive, every minute difference on his face indication of a changing mood or idle thought. His sculpted pout became even more prominent went two fangs descended, the curve of the fangs identical to the curve of his lips. What made the whole thing a little unnerving was that his ears had also moved. Two furry, triangular ears stood erect on his head, nestled in his hair.

He was a half demon.

Sango pouted herself when she saw the ears. She had been so hopefully when she watched the claws grow on his hands, and the slender, delicate fangs descend. When the imperial gold eyes landed on her, she had to lower her own gaze, fearing she had been caught greedily staring at the transformation. There was something haunting in his gold eyes.

Then, when she lifted his head and saw that he was a half-demon, she was practically willing to consider becoming a home wrecker. There were so few good looking, smart half-demons out there! Unfortunately, then she saw the ears and felt all her hopes deflate.

He was half dog-demon.

'Damn!' Sango mentally cursed in her head, ranting and raving about how she had made a fool of herself over some worthless, smelly dog-demon. She didn't let her disappointment or general disgust show as she pulled out a small note pad from her pocket and a pen from the breast pocket of her blouse. "If you don't mind, we'd like to ask you and your wife some question about a homicide we're investigating."

"Kagome and I don't have anything to do with a homicide," he automatically responded.

His reaction snapped Miroku back to attention, and he began inspecting Inuyasha's face, trying to determine the emotions playing over the man's handsome features. Usually the defensive reaction indicated that there was something he was trying to hide. He and Sango exchanged expressions. She had noticed Inuyasha's defensive approach just as much as he had.

"What's this about a homicide?" a sweet, female voice asked. Inuyasha's wife approached from the house, arms laden with a tray of empty glasses and a pitcher of lemonade.

If ever there was a trophy wife, there was Kagome Higurashi, Miroku noted. She was smiling like some kind of drone. Her blue eyes seemed repressed, almost disinterested, like the movement she was doing was mechanical. She didn't have so much as a hair out of place or a broken nail from doing housework.

"Nothing, Kagome," Inuyasha growled. He swung the axe into the tree stump which served as a chopping block. Miroku gulped when he saw the force and strength he had used to swing the axe into the tree stump. It was embedded half-way up the metal head, and wood chips had flown into the air when he splintered the tree. He had even done it single handedly. _Single handedly_!

He wrapped an arm around her waist, nuzzling the dark, wavy hair that pooled around the base of Kagome's neck. His voice was a warning growl. He had seen the way Miroku had eyed his Kagome, and he was determined to remind the man from the IBPS that Kagome was his. "It's not important. Why did you come out here, anyway?"

"I saw the car pull up." Sango realized that the dark brown hair she had briefly seen before the curtain closed was Kagome's. "I thought that they were business partners of yours, of cousins or something, so I brought out some lemonade for everybody."

He kissed his wife's mouth gingerly, careful not to tip over the tray in her hands. "That's sweet of you Kagome." Realizing he wasn't going to be able to shake off the investigators as easily as he had hoped, Inuyasha sighed and gestured with the hand not around his wife to the patio set.

"Why don't we get into the shade and talk?"

Kagome poured them lemonade and they all sat around to talk. Sango began asking questions. Miroku merely sat, observing Kagome, ignoring the glares he received from Inuyasha and, surprisingly, Sango.

'That hypocrite,' she thought. 'First he chastises me for looking at Inuyasha, and now he can't take his eyes off of Kagome!' She accepted a cup from Kagome without even thinking, raising it to her lips to drink. 'That damned, irresponsible, bas… I smell blood.' Her nose sniffed the air. She could smell very faint blood. Sango's eyes focused on the glass in front of her.

The smell of blood was coming from the glass.

"Yes," Kagome was giggling, offering a glass of lemonade to Miroku as she answered his question. "I belong to a coven of witches. Actually, we prefer circle, rather than coven. There are twelve of us. Most of us are women, all married to demons. It's what ties us all together. Usually we just get together and trade recipes as well as spells, occasionally working together to weave a blessing or a good luck charm."

She let out a little screech of alarm when Miroku dropped his glass, clutching at his chest. The lemonade glass shattered on the ground, the sweet, sticky substance coating the patio deck. When she saw him clutch his chest Sango knew that this was the real thing. It wasn't some little empathy trick about people from a photograph. It was a real vision…. Her blood ran cold when she hear him let out a snarl of pain, trying hard not to be more vocal about the pain ripping him apart.

She reacted immediately, pulling out her cell phone and alerting the office that she needed help. Her other hand dropped the other lemonade glass. It went unnoticed. With their attention on Miroku, Sango was easily able to pull out the case for her sunglasses. She stuck her sunglasses in her breast pocket. In the empty case, she put in the rim of Miroku's lemonade cup. Sango grinned to herself. She wasn't the best in the business for anything.

"What's the matter with him?" Kagome cried, sounding earnestly concerned for his welfare. Miroku was falling from out of his seat. Sango could smell his sweat in the air. It stank of fear. Inuyasha was reaching over to catch Miroku.

"He's a psychic," Sango explained, hurrying around the table to help Inuyasha hold up Miroku. Kagome was proving to be perfectly incapable of holding anything but the pitcher of lemonade. Sango linked her arm around Miroku's, lowering him from his seat to the grass. She hoped that the cool texture of the grass would help to calm him down. She could see the beads of sweat appearing on his face.

Inuyasha sensed what she was trying to do and help her. Sango was worried. Miroku was shivering. When Inuyasha released his arm, he automatically clung to Sango's hand. She could feel his whole body shake uncontrollably. She had never seen anybody look so pale… except perhaps Sesshomaru. His blue eyes stared past her.

Gently, she leaned over and brushed his bangs away from his eyes. She could feel her face soften, though she didn't mean it to. The ambulance already on the way, she held his hand tightly, and began trying to talk him out of it, just as she had the first time she'd been with him when he had gotten a vision.

For a moment, just for a moment, he returned to himself. The tears were rolling over his cheeks from the corner of his eyes. "I don't want this," he cried, his eyes focusing on hers.

Sango nodded. "I know you don't, Miroku. I wouldn't want it either… Miroku!" She felt his hand go lack in hers. She leaned over his body, grabbing his shoulders. His lips were parted. She could feel his breath stir her hair when she leaned over him… but she couldn't hear his heartbeat anymore. Before she could think about what she was doing, she was straddling his body, her trembling fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt so that she could find his heart.

She didn't have a chance to start trying to pump his blood for him as the ambulance suddenly pulled up.

Miroku couldn't feel any of it. He was unaware as he was lifted on a gurney, unaware as they peeled off his shirt and began trying to get his heart to stop. All he knew was that he had felt searing pain down his whole body. His arms and legs burned and he felt dizzy. And then he had felt hot fingertips wrap around his heart and squeeze. They squeezed until he couldn't stand it and he wanted to scream. And then it had stopped, and he had again felt that sadness. It settled over him, refusing to leave him. Sango's hand, which had once been cool in his hand, was invisible to him. He could no longer feel the wet grass on the back of his neck. He was alone.

When he woke up, the sadness still had not left him. He woke up gasping, and when his head cleared, he was able to identify his surroundings. He was on the hospital level of the Bureau complex. He was in the same room he was in before. Miroku smiled when he realized that this time he had been spared from waking up with an intravenous needle in his arm. He was getting sick of that.

However, there was no sign of Ranma or Sango when he awoke. The sadness he had experience wrapped closer to him. He didn't know what it meant. He had experienced the sadness because it had been someone's past, so why was he experiencing it again without a focus, and combined with the pain of the visions he associated with their killer?

Miroku crawled wearily out of bed. Though he could think clearly again, his head was still pounding. A wave of pain and nausea fought away the sadness for a moment when he stood up to retrieve his pants and shirt laying discarded on the chair next to him. His watch was intermingled with the clothes. He glanced at it. It was either supper time or six in the morning. He wondered what day it was.

Rubbing his head, he sighed, dragging his feet down the hallway of the hospital level. He didn't see anybody else, for which he was glad, in a sadistic way. He disliked the feelings of unhappiness which clouded around him, but at the same time he dreaded being bombarded with the mental problems of some other patient.

'Damn empathy,' he cursed. He paused to lean on the wall, breathing heavily. His legs were asleep. The tingling sensation of the blood starting to flow through his veins irked him as much as it did make him want to laugh.

"You okay?"

A hand clamped down on his shoulder. He jumped around, breathing in relief when he saw it was Ranma. He smiled at his partner. "You scared the crap out of me," he said, withholding a laugh. "I'd thought that you had forgotten about me when I woke up by myself."

"Naw, I wouldn't do that," Ranma laughed. "You'd kill me if I did. I was just grabbing myself some lunch." He held up a paper bag decorated with growing grease spots, making Miroku laugh. Ranma and his takeout… how come Ranma could eat like a pig and it was Miroku who was suffering from strokes?

"Where's Sango?" Miroku asked. "I need to talk to her. It's about the photo album…. Ranma?" As soon as he had asked the location of his newest partner, Ranma had gone quiet. Ranma was only ever quiet when he was concerned or if he was sulking. Clearly, he wasn't sulking. Miroku's grey-blue eyes narrowed. He was hardly in the mood for games. "Ranma," he said warningly, "where is Sango?"

Ranma shifted his weight nervously. Miroku's mouth twitched as he felt the weight of the world suddenly crush him. He felt like he was playing nursemaid to his partners sometimes.

"Here's the thing, Miroku," he began. "Ah… no one knows _where_ Sango is. She's… just… disappeared off the face of the earth. Even Akane doesn't know where she is. If she does, she won't tell me where she's hiding."

His skin felt cold. Sango… was missing? He spun around, marching down the hallway, shouting orders at his best friend. "Get to Akane! Don't let her out of her sight! She knows where Sango is, I'd bet my eyeteeth on it! Don't you remember what Fuu told us? We're not supposed to split up!"

"Where are you going?"

He glanced over his shoulder. "I'm going to go and find Sango!"

* * *

AN: I told you I had evil plans! Responses are on my profile page, but as a note to Waka-Waka. Please email me. I have deemed you my honorary research person, and I need help with chapter fifteen. 


	13. The Cottage

AN: Alternate Universe fics are often criticized for taking the name and the face of a character and relying upon their popularity to gain a reputation. They claim that AU's have no character traits similar to the person in the original series. While my own theory is that they are under different circumstances and raised in another time or world, of course they aren't the same. Compare, for instance, Sango in the manga and Sango if she had been born into the eleventh century, a wealthy aristocrat, whose only claim to power was generally a pretty face and bloodthirsty desire to consolidate power. From the AU's I have read, this hasn't always been the case. For instance, Queenizzay and Aamalie's _Love Me Not,_ did a wonderful job, in my opinion, of staying true to the main traits of Sango and Miroku. Others, regretfully, have Miroku being a pimp and Sango being his main whore (while I haven't found any of these, I am adamant they exist somewhere). In this chapter, Sango and Miroku are at their worst for being unlike the Sango and Miroku we know and love in the series. Miroku's perversion is on hold when he confronts Sango, but not without justification. Sango, on the other hand, has no real reason for acting the way she does, save her hormones. Sango is, quite literally, not the same girl from the series. I have been hinting at this for some time, and many of you have already figured it out. I have also been pointing to her change in characters (see her conversations with Sesshy a chapter or two ago, and eyeing Inuyasha last chapter).

I just thought that I would remind you all of that before you all send me responses of: "Sango would never come on to Miroku!"

But now, hopefully, I have intrigued, and you will read on and enjoy, dear readers.

Just remember: you've been told.

The Cottage

Miroku automatically went to Kakashi. Kakashi would know where Sango was. He marched to the elevator, ignoring Amy as she tried to follow him, saying he needed to be looked over before he could be excused. The elevator doors closed behind him. If she really wanted to give him permission to leave, she'd have to call security and tell them to shut down the elevators and they would have to drag him back.

He patted his pockets. Wallets, keys, cell phone. He had everything he needed. He began to pace as the elevator continued rising, undeterred. Apparently getting permission to leave the medical level was not as important as he had thought.

Where would Sango have gone? Why would she leave? She had been the one to tell him that they had been ordered to baby-sit after him! She had been in the room when she had been told not to go anywhere alone! Didn't she respect the orders of Fuu and Ferio? Had someone called her and demanded that she come alone down some dark alleyway if they want to know the truth? Had she…

For a brief moment, he could clearly see Sango sitting at a fancy restaurant, her long legs crossed and revealed by the hem of a short, tight black cocktail dress. He could see diamonds in her ears and hanging seductively around her neck, accentuating the way she held her chin proudly. Her hair framed her face, the rest of it twisted up in a French braid, teasing the man who sat across from her, longing to reach over and bury his fingers in her hair, pulling her face to his and kiss her until his breath had left his body.

Had she left gone and see that… that _Inuyasha_?

No. That was foolish. Sango wouldn't seduce some man out on a date just for information when the man was married. Besides, it was dangerous, leading a man on like that. Girls ended up dead for it, and men in jail. Sango's pride was what made her so alluring in the way she walked proudly and the way her eyes looked at you so intently it was like she was seeing your soul. She would never demean herself like that, or be so foolish as to put herself in danger like that.

The elevator doors opened. He stormed out, haunted by the images his mind had conjured. All he could think about was that man's hands running along Sango's arm, his lips nuzzling her neck as she leaned into his touch, his words making her laugh, his fingers trailing up smooth, long legs…

Sango _wouldn't_ do that.

The door knob to Kakashi's room protruded from the heavy wooden door. It mocked him. Without thinking, he grabbed it…pushing the door open and walking straight into… straight into the door.

"Fuck!" He cursed, grabbing his nose. His fingers were wet. He looked down at them. He was such an idiot. He was such a stupid klutz! Why would Kakashi leave his door open? Of course he would leave it locked! So he had walked into it, giving himself a bloody nose. He cursed himself again, hearing the lock turn behind the wooden door. Kakashi had no doubt heard something heavy slam and was coming to answer the door. Miroku, ashamed at his own mistake, quickly wiped his nose and upper lip, hoping he got all the blood. He'd ask to use the washroom later.

Kakashi opened the door. His single visible eyes seemed to smile at Miroku, the fabric covering the man's mouth tightening with an invisible grin. "Miroku! What are…"

"Where's Sango?" he demanded, shoving into the suite. Kakashi was irritated at the intrusion, but he calmly shut the door behind Miroku. Miroku was busy looking around the apartment, ignoring the pretty paintings and the furniture, searching for some sign of Sango.

Kakashi didn't answer Miroku at first, amused as Miroku stalked around the living room and the apartment. He didn't deny or acknowledge where Sango was. When Miroku disappeared into the kitchen, Kakashi leaned on the breakfast nook, looking through the opening in the wall to watch Miroku. When the man grabbed a paper towel and began to clean off the hint of blood left between his nose and lip, Kakashi reached above him, selecting a hanging wine glass.

"Why do you need to know where Sango is?" he inquired.

Miroku could smell something cooking. That answered his question. It was night time.

"Because… no one knows where she is. She could be in danger."

"Sango's a grown woman. She might act a little tough, she might put on a display of bravado, but she is fully capable of taking care of herself. Why should I help you find her? Maybe she doesn't want to see you."

He considered the senior officer's question as the man poured himself a glass of brandy. Rather than answering, he merely looked at him suspiciously. "You're her guardian. Don't you care where she is? Don't you care that she could be in trouble right now and we wouldn't know? Don't you care about her at all?"

Kakashi's eyes flashed dangerously. He closed the bottle of brandy, setting it down on the wooden counter. Slowly, he lifted off the covering off of the other eye. Miroku had always thought the other eye was hidden because Kakashi had lost it in some fight and he didn't want to disgust people by showing up with a missing eye. When the upper half of Kakashi's face was revealed, however, he saw the truth. He still had his other eye.

His other eye was just like Sango's. It was deeper, almost as if it were more _aged_, if eyes could be such a thing. Where as Sango's eyes, he had noted, were a pretty shade of hazel, Kakashi's was a deep, emerald green, the flecks of gold so hidden in Sango's eyes beautifully visible in Kakashi's. Paired with Kakashi's brown eye, it seemed a little… odd, to say the least.

"Of course I care for her," he growled. Miroku gulped. "She's my niece, after all. But Sango deserves her privacy now and again. If she asked me not to tell anybody where she was going, don't you think that as her guardian I should respect her wishes and trust her?"

Miroku felt very guilty. He looked away from Kakashi. "Maybe…"

"Then maybe, young man, you should tell me why in the world I should tell you where my niece is staying when she's perfectly safe and she doesn't need someone disturbing a night of peace and relaxation."

He thought for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts so he didn't make a fool of himself—again. "Because," he finally answered, "I'm worried about her. I know Sango's good at fighting. She may even be the best. Lord knows she kicked my ass when we fought, but no one can be the best all the time. I want to be with her. I don't need to be in the same room as her, or talk to her, but I want to be there for her so that when she finally isn't the best… she'll at least have someone to watch her back."

"And _you_ _would_ be the perfect one to watch her back." Miroku's face flushed, and Kakashi smiled. Miroku looked away, still unnerved from the similarity between his eye to Sango's. "I heard about what you did to my niece. I don't think that I want to send the man who grabbed my niece and groped her to her when she's all by herself."

"I promise you that whatever Sango said was greatly exaggerated," he growled, trying to defend himself.

"Oh, so you _didn't_ grab Sango in the hallway, kiss her, and grab her in a manner unfitting of a gentleman?"

Miroku was getting mad again. His voice was rising. "I didn't mean anything sexual when I said that I wanted to watch her back!"

"Then what did you mean, young man?"

"I meant that I want to protect her!" he shouted.

"Why?"

"I don't know!" He suddenly realized that he really didn't know why. He looked away again, pacing in the kitchen. Kakashi triumphantly swirled the brandy in his glass. "I don't know why I want to protect her, but I do. I think it's because she's my partner, now. It's my responsibility. Sango's not my friend, sir. I don't think she could even be paid off to call me such, but I don't want to see anything bad happen to her. Maybe it's my job, but I'd rather think that it's something… human inside of me." He touched his chest briefly. "I'd like to think that I want to be there for her because it's the right thing to do."

He arched an eyebrow suspiciously. "Are your intentions that noble, Miroku?" The other man nodded. Kakashi paused, staring at his brandy. "And if Sango were to come to you and ask that you sleep with her?"

"On the unlikely event that Sango would lose her mind and ask that… I'd decline. She'd never ask in the right state of mind."

He smiled again. He set down the brandy glass and disappeared. When he returned, he walked into the kitchen, one hand reaffixing the band which hid the emerald-green eye. "I feel it rather foolish to point out that Urahara's new gadgets included the GPS tracker for just such an occasion. So that will save me from having to give you directions. These keys," he added, his other hand appearing and holding up a dangling house key, "will open the front door of the house. Don't tell Sango that I told you where she was, or she'll kill me."

Miroku accepted the key gratefully, giving Kakashi a crooked smile. "What are you talking about, sir? I used the GPS tracking system in my cell phone to track her down because I was worried. I never involved you at all. And I picked open the lock on the front door of the house."

Kakashi patted Miroku's head. "You're a good kid, Miroku. Ferio's right. Your heart is in the right place, even if the rest of you isn't. So it would be a shame if you hurt my little girl and I had to kill you. Keep that in mind."

Miroku nodded, and left.

* * *

He drove quickly. His car lumbered along. He had taken a little while to figure out how to get the cell phone to display Sango's location, but after he had, all he had to do was follow it. He had been surprised when, almost two hours after he had departed from the Bureau, he found himself in the countryside, surrounded by forests. There were a few sparse houses, sitting like glittering castles and mansions behind the tall trees. He could hardly believe that Sango was out there somewhere… what would she be doing amongst all of these private properties?

Miroku carefully pulled the car along a sharp turn. Ahead of him he could see an old wooden sign marred by time. 'Private Drive. No Trespassing'. According to the face of his cell phone, Sango was somewhere beyond that sign. He pulled into the driveway, noticing the stone pillars on either side of the gravel road. The lights in them were dark. The path seemed unused. Tiny plants were struggling their way up through the gravel. He turned off the car so that the headlines turned off. Everything was dark around him. He couldn't see any lights on. Was there even a house out there? Maybe it was abandoned…

'And maybe Sango is camping and Kakashi is really Santa Claus in disguise.' He rolled his eyes, starting the car up again. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was all alone in the woods. He hadn't seen another car since the last gas station he had passed. It was like something from a badly written horror movie. This time, he grinned at his own thoughts, pointing out that if his car did die and an escapee from an asylum with a hook for a hand did come after him and Sango, then surely he would at least be guaranteed some action in the sac before his untimely death. Or even better, he and Sango, as the stars, escape from the killer and then get to hop on the good foot and do that bad thing.

Shaking his head, almost disgusted by his single-mindedness, he slowly drove the car down the gravel road. He unrolled the window, listening. He couldn't hear anything except for the sound of his tires rolling over the dirt and rocks. However, he soon began to hear the sound of water: the gentle sound of water moving back and forth across the rocks, gently wearing them down into smooth skipping stones.

The house came into view shortly after that. Unlike the other houses Miroku had seen driving along, this was not a mansion. It was a large, one story house, set in the traditional Japanese style. Miroku could see Shoji screens on the inside of the house, illuminated by his headlights. He turned off the car, looking at the empty house. It was dusk. He couldn't see any lights, still, but according to the cell phone, he was practically right on top of Sango.

He climbed out of his car, taking out the keys Kakashi had given to him. If they fit the front door of the house, then this would obviously be the correct house. Sure enough, the key fit in the lock and Miroku entered the cottage. Just as he had seen from the outside, there weren't any lights on inside the house. Miroku slipped off his shoes and put the key away in his pocket again. He began to investigate.

The hallway led into the kitchen. The kitchen was very simple. The fridge was decorated with magnets, one of them bearing Sango's name. He touched it gingerly. From there he walked into the living room. A dark television sat in an entertainment system. Pictures were placed along it decoratively. He picked one of them up, squinting to see a picture of Sango and Kakashi together. Kakashi was holding her protectively, his face still hidden. Sango was smiling, holding up a butterfly on her finger. Even in the dim light, he could see that she was missing teeth. She couldn't have been any older than eight.

His blue eyes softened, feeling remorseful that he had talked to Kakashi in such a way. How could the senior agent not care for Sango? It was painfully obvious in pictures like these that she seemed to be his whole world. Why else would he hold her like that, his eye filled with pride and his whole demeanor one of comfort?

"You shouldn't be here."

Sango's voice caught him off guard. He jumped, almost dropping the picture. Miroku put the picture back, knowing he had gotten caught despite how quiet he had tried to be, but at the same time, he wondered about Sango's voice. It had sounded different than normal. It sounded strained.

"Neither should you," he said gently, slowly circling the room with his eyes to find where she was hiding. Finally, he spotted the dark brown couch. It was facing away from the living room, towards a set of sliding glass doors.

"How did you find me?"

"The bug that Urahara planted in your arm." He walked to the arm of the couch, finally finding Sango.

She was sitting on the couch, watching the colors of the twilight play over the tops of black trees far off in the distance. A lake behind a few sparse bushes glimmered in the dying light. It wasn't as pretty as Sango looked. She was curled up on her side, her knees tucked under her chin as she rested her head on a pillow. Her long hair was tied up in a loose braid, strands of her hair escaping from it to lay across her long neck. Her eyes were half closed, her dark lashes invisible. Her lips were parted, but her chest was still, her breath so light it too was invisible. Her toes rubbed against the fabric of the couch slowly. He had the urge to tickle her exposed feet.

She took a deep breath, her voice even more forced than it had been a moment ago. "I mean it, Miroku. You really shouldn't be here. I have every right to be here. This _is_ my house, after all."

He looked around again, glancing at the dark rectangle that was the entertainment unit where photographs sat, to the kitchen that had the childish magnet with Sango's name. Obviously this was her house. It was a nice house. Miroku left the couch to walk around again. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness within the house. He could see things that looked like trophies on a bookcase. Miroku let a finger gentle trace the names etched into the metal plaques on the trophies. They held Sango's name.

"You grew up here?" he asked in wonder.

"Yes. Kakashi's apartment didn't really have a spot for him to raise a child. When I had to go into town with him for when he worked, I stayed in the same room I have now, but this was our house. I grew up here," she said fondly, slowly sitting up. "I learned to swim in that lake. I built my first tree house in these woods." She paused. The momentary silence seemed almost painful as she looked back on the years. "I spent a lot of time in the city, but my heart was always here."

Hearing the sadness in her voice, Miroku once again stopped snooping. He leaned on the back of the couch, leaning over until he could see her face. His voice was gentle and soothing underneath the inquisitiveness aroused by the strange new world around him. The pictures, the trophies, the quietness and delicateness Sango revealed to him were all very different from the woman he had so often seen as of late. It reminded him of the woman he had first met, trying to hide her tears from him as he awoke from a pain-induced slumber.

This was a woman he wanted to know more about.

"Sango," he said gently, reaching out and brushing her hair. "Why did you leave us? You know better than that. We aren't supposed to go off on our own. I know that this case is tough, but if you needed some time by yourself, if you wanted to come here, then I'm certain Akane would have loved to come with you. You two could have stayed up watching romantic girly movies, or gone swimming after dark… why in the world did you feel…."

His words began to come slower, the words thickening together so that they weren't as clear as they normally were. She was leaning into him slowly. At first he felt the warmth on his face, emanating from the blush on her skin. He felt his own cheeks beginning to darken. Then he could feel her breath. It was light and gentle, like a barely existent breeze. Then her lashes brush his chin and cheek as she tilted her face up towards his. Miroku's head swam as he day dreamed that she was planning on kissing him. He could see the outline of her bottom lip if he strained his eyes down. It was enticing. Her parted lips seemed to beg and plead for his willing touch, to be worshipped and devoured like a virgin sacrifice demanded by some immortal, sexual god.

"Why did you feel like you had to be… _alone_?"

His final word was cut off when her lips pressed against his. He didn't even have time to close his eyes. His mind silenced itself as he lost himself in her touch. Her soft lips merely pressed against his, uncertain and shy as to what to do next. Her hands rose to gently stroke his face, trying to make him lean into her more, to kiss her harder as his higher position put his weight behind the kiss.

Miroku, however, was plagued by Kakashi's words. He lifted his hands to push her away, but the strength in her arms caught him off guard. He slid over the back of the couch, landing unceremoniously on top of Sango. She broke the kiss to laugh at his rumpled and embarrassed face and body.

"Miroku," she laughed, her voice losing the abrasiveness that had startled him at first. "God, Miroku! You're such a klutz! A stupid, naïve, little klutz!"

He crawled off of, sitting on the opposite end of the couch from her. Miroku pursed his lips as he brought his knees under his chin, curling up much the same way Sango had been a moment before. "Thank you… I think. You still didn't answer my question."

"What? Oh… yes…" For a moment Sango was lost in a train of thought. Then she blinked, shaking her head and returning to their conversation. "How much do you know about demons?"

Staring at her like she was crazy, he tried not to sound too cross. "What the hell do demons have to do with anything?"

"Just answer the damn question, Miroku."

"Okay, fine." Miroku wracked his brain to find an answer to her question. "I guess that you could say the only things I know about demons are what I learned during training. I know about different types of demons, some rituals, how to kill demons, demon society…."

She stared across the couch at him. "How much do you know about half-demons?"

Again, Miroku thought before answering. "Some of them are infertile. They're generally shunned by both human and demon societies. They're all called hanyous, and have developed their own society of sorts…."

Again, Sango cut him off. "How much do you know about their physiology and mating habits?"

He wondered if maybe this was some kind of a trick. Sango had to be setting him up for something. He shook his head. "I may like sex, Sango, and think about it as much as any other normal, healthy man, but…." Sango shook her head, laughing at him and disagreeing with him, but he let it slide. "Okay, maybe I do think about more than your average person, but that doesn't mean I go out of my way to find out how to have intercourse with every possible type of demon and hanyou out there."

"I'll explain some of it to you then. With both demon and hanyou sex, they are very much like animals. Their periods of fertility are governed by the environment around them." Her voice was hypnotizing, enchanting even. Miroku found himself spellbound by her voice, listening intently. Sango sat quietly, looking out at the water, as if Miroku wasn't even there.

"Their habits are more complex than animals, however. Animals go into heat in time for spring. Demons, on the other hand, have such complex understanding of their environments, that they may even keep off their fertility periods during time of war. Hanyous have a complex fertility cycle as well, but theirs is tainted by their human blood. Like humans, half-demons who are fertile revolve on a cycle. For some, they become fertile every month, some every two months, some twice a year. Unlike demons, they have no control over this.

"Their bodies begin to prepare for carrying a child, the same way a mortal woman does. Their hormones begin to change. They release pheromones to attract a suitable mate. In other demons and half-demons, the effects of the pheromones can be dangerous. At times, depending on the pheromones released, it can act like alcohol. It affects humans as well, but not as badly. And hormones released into the female hanyou make her willing to lie with a man."

"In other words, they make her hor… sexually aroused," he finished, after Sango had shot him a warning look.

She nodded. "So much so that at times it is almost uncontrollable. No one knows why this has exhibited in half-demons. Perhaps it is because of the genes, and the way the demonic and human bodies reflect upon each other in the new form of a hanyou. But others believe that because half-demons are persecuted, it is a response to social changes. The more half-demons in the world, the more their society will grow. So they force lust upon members of their species using chemical reactions in an attempt to turn themselves from a minority into a majority."

"Complex animals have complex habits," Miroku agreed.

"Which is why it puzzles me that my uncle would send you here at this time." She turned to face him, and Miroku understood. His mind was speechless as she continued. "My body is releasing pheromones. My body is being altered by hormones. Yet my uncle sends me a human male on the last night of my fertility cycle, when it is at its very worst. Why? Why would he do such a thing?"

She began to crawl towards him. Miroku backed up, falling over the edge of the couch and landing on the floor. Sango giggled. Hearing it soothed his wounded pride, and it was a small consolation to him that, as he was on the floor, he couldn't fall down again. Sango leaned over the couch, looking down on him, smiling. Her eyes were bright in the darkness, but he could see them plainly. They seemed to glow gold in the darkness. Slowly, she crawled off the couch, her body moving over his. Miroku felt like cornered prey.

Worse yet, he felt like _willing_ prey. Why would he want to run away when his attacker was a beautiful woman who would ravage his body until she was satiated?

Because she was his partner. Because her uncle had threatened to kill him if he slept with her. Because she clearly wasn't in her right state of mind. Because… because… they were many reasons why he should move, but Miroku was still caught in her spell. His body was paralyzed. His eyes followed the flowing lines of her body, the way her lips looked, the way she crawled over him…

Miroku somehow managed to close his eyes. His sudden longing to touch her was so bad that it actually hurt not to feel her skin against his. 'Damn it,' he swore as she straddled him. 'Kagura's power is to release psychic hormones. They never work on me. So why is this any different!'

"Why," she continued. Her tongue suddenly lapped out, licking his neck, and he moaned beneath her. "Why would he send you to me?"

"Maybe it's because you hate my guts and he knew I was such a descent man that if you came on to me it would be a clear sign of temporary insanity so there was no way I would sleep with you."

It took Sango a moment to figure out what he had said. She leaned up off of him, rubbing her ear. "Yes, that probably does make sense." She nodded her head, and Miroku thought that she was smiling. "I do very much dislike you, after all…"

"And also because Kakashi promised to kill me if I tried to hit on you."

"Well, that sounds even more plausible." Sango lifted herself from off of him, and leaned against the arm of the couch. "You still shouldn't have come here, Miroku."

"I was worried about you."

His words surprised him. He hadn't realized that he had been worried about her. Ever since he had woken up, his thoughts had been about her. That was probably a result of the pheromones she was sending out, but nonetheless, he was worried about her. She looked at him incredulously.

Miroku shook his head, and slowly stood up. "I mean it, Sango. I really was worried about you. You're a great member of our team and I don't want to lose you all because you needed to be alone."

Sango was quiet. She continued to stare at Miroku, looking at him with fresh eyes. Whatever had come over that had made her advance on him had faded away, if only temporarily. When Sango opened her mouth to speak, he cut her off, and she was grateful for it. Sango didn't know what she would have said. All she had known was that the talking was awkward.

"You go back to enjoying your lake," Miroku told her gently. His hands itched to hold her and guide her back to the couch, but he had to keep his distance. "I'll make us something to drink. Then I want to hear all about you, Sango. No more secrets between us. If you're a hanyou, I want to know everything."

"I can't tell you everything," she said mournfully. There were some secrets in her past even Sango didn't disclose to herself.

"Then just tell me about your past."

"Okay… Okay, Miroku. I can do that."


	14. The Psychic

Chapter Fourteen: The Psychic

Sango's mother's name was Arashi.

She was the oldest junior member in the district of the Japanese bureau, and people frowned on her for it. They said it was because she was too cold and reserved that she wasn't able to get the promotion. Arashi didn't care. Her partner was her brother, Kakashi. So long as she had her brother, she was happy.

But the fact that she was only a junior agent was part of the reason why it caused such an uproar in the bureau when Kakashi and Arashi were given a deadly and career-building assignment: the locating and capturing of a dangerous demon whose whereabouts were supposed to be in India.

Sango's father's name was Xim.

He was the oldest junior member in the district of the Indian bureau, and people only condoned his status in the bureau behind his back. Most people described him as a goof, as a little kid. He was too immature to be able to get a proper promotion, but no one dared say this to his face. He was too happy, too smiling. No one begrudged him his position, and people enjoyed his jejune behavior. His jokes and social gifts made everyone fall in love with him.

That was why people worried when he was given a dangerous and prestigious case: the protection and aiding of a young Japanese team from the IBSP. His duty was to make sure no one lied to them, swindled them, or gave them bad directions. He was to play bodyguard for them, as well as lending them his knowledge of the Indian language and culture.

People wondered if Xin, such a giddy and friendly person, would be able to protect somebody. All they could think about was having him walk up to the thugs and offering them a ride to their house…

"My father's partner was the psychic in the partnership," Sango told Miroku. He was sitting across the couch from her, leaning into the corner, a mug of tea in his hands. Sango sat all the way on the other side of the couch, ignoring him as much as possible. Her eyes were focused on the way the moon glittered the water silver as the waves struck the sandy beach. "You've seen his gift, I believe. The rumor about Kakashi's eye is true. It allows him to see things no one else can. Even I don't know exactly what it can do. He doesn't like telling me about himself.

"Uncle Kakashi was the fighter in my mother's partnership. He's amazing. My mother's psychic power also pertained to fighting. She could pick up any weapon and instantly knew how to use it. That's part of why they were sent to India. The Bureau knew that if Kakashi and my mother were separated, they could both take care of themselves. Unlike most partnerships where one assumes the role of bodyguard, their partnership relied upon their minds. Together, it seemed like they could do anything.

"As for my father, his power was his heritage. He was the fighter in the pair, because of his genes. My father was a demon. More specifically, he was a shapeshifter. When he needed to fight, to _really_ fight, he could turn into a tiger."

Miroku interjected. "So, this is the power you have? You can turn into a tiger as well? Or do you turn into something different?"

She shook her head, but she didn't really seem to have noticed his interruption. "No, I turn into a tiger as well."

"What happened next?"

"When the demon was captured, it looked like Mom and Uncle Kakashi were going to return to Japan. Dad didn't want her to go. Uncle Kakashi always told me that right from the very beginning, Dad was infatuated with my Mom. He thought she was the prettiest woman he'd ever met, and the smartest. Mom did her best to ignore him and concentrate on the job, but Uncle Kakashi says that Mom cared for him too. She couldn't pronounce his full name properly, so she called him Sorata Osaka, because she said he looked like a Sorata and acted like someone from Osaka. Even after they were married, she still called him Sorata Osaka. I don't think she ever called him be his real name," she said, smiling fondly.

"They married. Mom moved to India and got her citizenship there. They both quit the bureau. Dad got a job in normal government, and Mom actually stayed at home. She was pregnant with me, but when I was four and I started school, she got a job at a bank. I have very few memories of them. One evening, our house burned down. I was the only one who made it out alive. I stayed at the hospital until Uncle Kakashi came to claim me. I changed my name when I came here. I didn't want people to know I wasn't born here in Japan. I lived with my uncle, and the rest you know."

Miroku frowned. "No," he corrected, "I don't know everything. I don't understand you, what you can do…"

Sango frowned back, and her expression was much more forceful than Miroku's. "That's not something you need to know, Miroku. It's none of your business what I can or can't do. I told you that I would tell you how I was a half demon. I agreed to tell you about my past. That's it." He was quiet, and before Sango thought about it, she grumbled, "I noticed that you didn't offer to tell me anything about your past in exchange."

This time, Miroku positively _glared_ at Sango. Her words were below the belt, and both of them knew that. Miroku was about to offer her some information regarding his past in exchange, but he bit his tongue. He _had_ told people about his past before, but it never went over well. He hated the consequences. People always looked at him out of pity. Sometimes they even accused him of making it up so that he could be the center of attention. Other men, when they flirted with a girl at the bar, thought he was just after pity points to get the girl into bed.

The truth about his past was that it was painful. He hated thinking about his past, about his family. After learning how people reacted to it, Miroku learned to go out of his way to avoid bringing it up. So he subtly changed the topic. He peered at Sango questioningly.

"You don't like me very much, do you? Okay, stupid question given what happened during our first twenty-four hours with each other. What do you say we stop this hostility?"

Sango smirked. "I don't know. Do you think you can stop being such a prick?"

Feeling suddenly good natured, Miroku grinned broadly. "I don't know. Do you think you can stop looking so adorable when I tease you?" He was proud when she blushed at his twisted compliment. He even thought he heard her snicker a little bit.

Rolling her eyes, Sango pushed herself off the couch. "Whatever. I'm going to bed. I'll get you a sheet, a blanket, and a pillow. I'm sorry that I can't offer you Kakashi's bed, but… if he ever found out someone other than him slept in it, he'd kill me. And I'm not about to let you sleep in mine. You'd stink it up. So… if you're planning on spending the night here, you'll have to take the couch."

"I think I can deal with that. The couch is surprisingly comfortable. And I get a wonderful view of the lake."

Sango felt herself blushing again. Miroku was… amazing. She was being cold to him to distance herself… and he just took it all in stride and looked for the silver lining. She bowed her head to him politely. "Goodnight, Miroku."

"Goodnight, Sango."

* * *

Miroku was sprawled out on the couch, trying to get comfortable. He didn't mind that he wasn't small enough for the couch, or that the couch was a little bit too hard for his taste. There was a beautiful woman sleeping yards from him. She was exotic and beautiful and intelligent… she was everything that Miroku had always admired in women, he had to admit that.

And she was also a half-demon. She had the power to turn into a cat and rip him to shreds… and yet, he didn't care. He liked that about her too. Sango deserved to be dangerous and wild. She was supposed to be untameable. That was part of her allure. He realized that now. If she ever actually settled down, had someone who shared her life with her, and he kept her chained down, she'd die. Miroku swore then that he'd kill whoever had the audacity to do that to Sango.

She needed to be free, and wild…

Tora. Tora was Japanese for tiger…

Miroku fell asleep with a smile.

* * *

When Sango woke up, she breathed in deeply. She could smell the flowery scent of her shampoo, the earth outside her window, the water… and something definitely male. She sat up straight in bed, feeling her nails change into retractable claws and a soft snarl escape her throat. She was ready for combat, to defend…

'Miroku.' She'd left her bedroom door open, in case anything happened. She could see Miroku on the couch, one foot sticking out from the blanket she'd given him. Sango's changes reversed, and she smiled, finding herself having to hold back a laughter. It was just Miroku. Was she ever edgy lately!

Still half-asleep, Sango breathed in deeply, relishing the scents in the morning. Miroku smelled half-pleasant in the morning. She could smell his shampoo, his deodorant, his body… And… and something was wrong. She felt a shiver pass over her, and Sango crawled out of bed. She threw on a light sweater over the boxer shorts and the tank top she'd worn to bed and stalked into the living room.

Miroku was fast asleep on the couch. It was probably just her imagination acting up again. What could be wrong with Miroku? His hand was braced into one curled arm, one foot free of the covers, his other leg hanging over the couch, his hair tousled… Sango frowned. And his breathing was irregular.

'Maybe it means he's waking up,' she thought, trying to calm herself down. The last thing she needed at six am was to wake up and find Miroku half-dead on her couch because the poor guy had suffered from _another_ vision. 'Maybe I should start some coffee, or tea…'

"Hrrnn…." Miroku groaned, tossing over in the couch. When he moved, the fear coming off of him was so strong Sango could feel her body react physically. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and her skin began to grow cold. She braced herself against the back of the couch when she felt it.

He _was_ having a vision. She was out in the middle of nowhere, miles from a hospital, and he could _die_ on her, and…! And Sango was rightfully _pissed_! 'Why me?' she demanded. 'Gooddamn it, why does he always have to have his visions when he's with me? If he keeps this up, we're _both_ going to end up in the hospital'

Instantly, she was overcome with guilt at her selfish thoughts, but the anger had been enough to wake her up fully. She crawled over the couch and began to check his pulse, check his breathing. He was wriggling around a lot, and Sango felt like she was starting to panic. Was she supposed to hold him down? Did you hold down someone who might go into seizures? She couldn't remember!

"Miroku! Miroku! Miroku, you bastard, wake up!" He showed no signs of lucidity at her voice, or at her anger, which had been enough to wake him up before.

She hated it. She hated seeing Miroku so helpless. She hated that she couldn't do anything to help him. She couldn't shield him or wake him up, no matter how much he thrashed about. She hated that she was helpless to aid him.

'He's the one whose always having visions. He should be complaining, not me! But he never has,' she realized. 'He's never uttered one word of complaint, except for that…' She shuddered as she remembered the way he had clutched at her arm and had looked so scared. She shoved away his words. Sango didn't want to dwell on that. She couldn't even be certain that they were his words.

She pulled off the blankets so he wouldn't become tangled in them. They were damp with sweat. She gripped Miroku by the shoulders, trying to remember what she'd done with the portable phone. She didn't want to leave him. "Wake up, Miroku!"

* * *

Right from the very beginning of the vision, Miroku knew something was wrong. No, not wrong, just _different_. There was no blinding white light. There was only darkness. Again, he could hear something. There was a buzzing sound, faint to his ghostly ears. But there was crying too, whimpering. There was a third sound too, under all the others, farther away… he couldn't identify it, but something about it made him afraid. It was a deep fear, an ancient fear. Something that made him realize that he was frail, that made him aware of his own mortality. It wasn't the shocking fear of wondering if you would die, it was the fear of knowing that one day you would.

He felt trapped in the darkness. It was hot. Miroku could feel sweat pooling in his bent arms and legs, but it was old. More than anything, he felt… empty. It was painful, but it wasn't the excruciating, maddening pain he had felt before, in his visions with Eve. This was sharp, overpowering… but he just didn't care anymore. He was lethargic. He had stopped caring, but there was a shard of hope. There was someone else here. Momma had told her to be quiet, but, surely this would be okay! She was so lonely…

Most importantly, Miroku could hear the thoughts of someone. He struggled to keep a hold of himself, of his own identity. He could so easily sleep into that mind, though. It was so open, so needing, that he wanted to go and see through her eyes and help her.

The lethargy was from famine, from dehydration. She didn't have the energy to move anymore. Her throat was parched. She could feel her heartbeat slowing down, but she wasn't scared of dying. She was scared for her mother and her father, and she was proud too. She had been told to stay, and she stayed. She had never said one word. Because…

_Because they were right outside the door.__ I could see their feet moving. If I had said anything, they would have heard me, and they would have hurt me. Momma said that she'd get me when the bad people were gone. The bad people could still be downstairs. I have to stay here. How long have they been there? I don't know. I lost count. The sun has gone a few times. I can see it through the crack under the door, but I don't know how long. I've slept a lot. I'm so sleepy…_

_It's smelly in here. Maybe the bad people made it smelly. Maybe they have those smelly bombs boys bring to school. I bet Momma's busy yelling at them now. That's why she hasn't come to get me, yet. Momma can yell a lot sometimes._

The thoughts paused for a moment, and Miroku heard someone sniffle, choking back a sob. She rubbed her cheek. He could feel the small hand pressing into his cheek, as if it were hers. No tears came, but she rubbed anyway. She rubbed until it hurt.

_I want Momma._

_I'm scared, Momma. I want you back._

The thoughts were rushed, jumbled. Miroku pushed away the other sounds, pulling himself deeper into those thoughts, trying to sort them out. Much to his surprise, the other person responded.

_Who are you? Stop that! It _hurts

He stopped. He hadn't expected that at all. Miroku didn't know if he could respond back. He was silent, trying to figure out a way to communicate. He didn't know how to send his thoughts, let alone in a vision. Even Fuu couldn't normally read his thoughts. Something about his empathy protected him from it, as if the thoughts and emotions acted as a buffer against an outside telepath…

_Miroku?__ Miroku! Help me, please!_

Shock ran through him. He felt the alien mind disappear for a moment as he regained himself. He tried to hold himself to this vision, feeling it start to slip away as voices called him back to his own body.

_Aren't you help?_

'Oh yes, yes, little girl, I am!' He wished she could hear him, and he felt himself starting to open up his mind. She was obviously psychic. She had reached out and contacted him. She told him that she had been looking for help. Bad people had come…

_I called for help when Momma started screaming and screaming… I'm so glad I found help!_

He felt her thoughts and memories rush into his mind, overloading him. He was a male with dark brown hair and a braid. He heard screaming. He saw their house. He saw a girl who looked a little like Eve. He saw a closet door shut.

_Please! Help Momma! Help her! Please! Help! Help Momma! Help Momma! Help Momma! Help Momma! Help Momma! Help Momma! Help Momma! Help Momma!_

The prayers went on so strongly that Miroku felt like his head was going to burst.

* * *

Sango watched him bite his lip. She didn't know how to stop it. Her nose itched when his teeth broke through the skin of his bottom lip, and she watched as blood began to bead. Sango quickly brushed it away for him. His nose was bleeding too. She cleaned that too, never thinking about it. She had called for an ambulance. It was on its way, but she hoped it would be unnecessary. He had stopped thrashing about. Miroku was on the floor now, his eyes fluttering. He looked like he was coming too, she just wished she knew what to do about the groans of pain he was making.

"Miroku?"

His eyes shot open so fast Sango jumped back and landed on the coffee table. Miroku coughed, and it sounded painful. If Sango didn't know better, it sounded like he had bronchitis. When he stopped coughing, he hid his hand so she wouldn't see the blood on it. His eyes weren't focusing yet. He looked blind. Sango hurried to the kitchen and brought him a glass of water to help his throat. She placed it in his hand, wrapping his hot fingers around it.

"Thanks," he mumbled weakly. Miroku winced when his lips moved. He knew his eyes were open, but he couldn't see yet.

"Sango?" He was certain it had been her who gave him the water, but he wanted to double check.

"I'm here, Miroku."

He felt a strong hand wrap around his free one, and he squeezed it back, smiling with relief before he drank greedily. He guzzled the class, but it barely quenched his thirst. He held it out, his eyes down at the ground, hoping she wouldn't notice. "Can I have some more, please? I'm so thirsty…"

Sango fetched another glass of water for him, as well as a cookie, remembering what he had said about sugar. Miroku's smile was a little bit brighter this time, but it faded when he explained what he had seen.

"Her name is Rin. You might want to call up Fuu. You're driving. I still can't see. Everything's a little hazy." He coughed again and began groping the damp sheets, trying to find his clothes. "Pack some food, and plenty of water. And call the ambulance."

Sango's face was grim. "There's already one on its way for you. We'll just redirect it."

He didn't need to see to know that she had stopped abruptly. Miroku arched an eyebrow. "What…"

"I'm glad you're safe," she said quickly, cutting him off. Miroku felt her breath on his cheek before she planted a brief kiss there. Then she brushed by him to her bedroom, and he heard her slamming a drawer, throwing proper clothes on.

* * *

To be Continued...


	15. The Niece

**AN**: From the last chapter, because I forgot: Rin is of course from Inuyasha and belongs to Rumiko Takahashi. The characters of Sorata and Arashi are from X, and belong to CLAMP.

As for the reference to beef… it has been told to me that Japanese beef is the most expensive beef in the world. I don't know if this is true or not, nor do I have the slightest idea of where to go to verify it. Apparently it costs so much because these cows are given the best food, and massaged everyday to keep the meat tender and the cow stress free. Why am I explaining this? Well, you'll see when I get to the end of the chapter, but basically: beef is expensive. You figure out the rest for yourself.

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Fifteen: The Niece

Sango called Ferio's number on her cell phone as she drove back towards Tokyo, trying not to speed _too_ much. Ferio picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"It's Sango, Ferio. I need to talk to Fuu, right away!"

"Why?" He sounded more concerned rather than suspicious, which was understandable. Sango sounded stressed on the phone. Her voice was sharp and she was speaking as fast as she could. He swore he could hear the screech of tires in the background. Sango could picture him leaning on his desk as he pressed the cell phone closer to his ear to cut through the static. "Sango, what's the matter?"

She told him everything Miroku had told her, glancing at Miroku as he recuperated, leaning his head against the cool glass of the passenger window.

* * *

After Sango finished, Ferio felt cold. He promised her he'd break the news to his wife and hung up before she could agree. He scratched his head, wondering how he should even _start_. He slid out from his desk chair. He thanked God that Fuu gave his mind privacy. If she knew what was going through his head right now…

He didn't have a clue how to begin until he stepped outside his office. Fuu was laughing, sitting straight in her desk, her chin held high. His heart gave a painful squeeze at the sight of her smile. Fuu's smile and laughter were positively enchanting. They were what had made him fall in love with her. Even Sesshomaru, who was the recipient of the joke, looked a little amused by it. She turned to let him in on the joke, and her face fell when she saw the sad expression he was wearing.

Her blonde hair was curled about her chin. Somehow, it made her look vulnerable. Ferio hated to do this, but she was an adult. She needed to know.

"Fuu, did you know that your cousin had a baby?"

Her eyes widened, and she smiled. Inwardly, Ferio winced. She looked so happy… "Hilde? Hilde had a baby?" Then her face fell. "I wish I could see it… Hilde's so cute, this child must be adorable! I wonder when it happened… I… I never even heard about her getting married…" Her voice trailed away, hollow.

It was by chance that Ferio had recognized the names of Rin's parents. Too often had he found his wife sitting alone by herself on the couch. She'd have a mug of hot chocolate on the coffee table, and be surrounded by old photo albums, flipping through them regretfully. There would always be a pile of used Kleenexes. Her nose always went pink when she cried, making her look even prettier, so far as Ferio cared.

He hated himself when he found her like that. It was all his fault. If he hadn't asked her to marry him… if he hadn't asked for Fuu to marry him after they had met on a mission in France, then she never would have gotten her family mad at her. They never would have chased her out of the house, and she would still have them. Logically, Ferio knew he wasn't to blame. Fuu could have said no. Her family could have accepted them. They didn't have to hate him for being a foreigner. But, he still felt responsible for it.

Fuu hadn't seen her family since they had been married. The only thing she had left of them was her last name. After they had kicked her out, she clung to it, and Ferio would not begrudge her it.

There wasn't an easy way to say it, so Ferio cut to the chase. "Sango and Miroku are heading over to Hilde's house right now." His voice faltered. "Mi… Miroku had a…"

He watched as her face paled. Behind her large glasses, he saw tears of fear starting to build. She tried to find her voice, but all she could was stare…

Sesshomaru cut in. "You have the directions, Ferio?" The man with the green hair nodded. "Very well. Remain here, Miss Hououji. Your husband and I will look into this… tragedy."

Fuu shot up out of her chair. "Like hell I'll stay here, Sesshomaru! I'm coming too!"

"Sango says that there may still be people inside the house," Ferio cautioned. "Maybe we should bring back up?"

Sesshomaru looked at him like he was an imbecile. There was a hint of amusement in his gold eyes. "Nonsense, Ferio. You won't need back up." He flexed one hand, displaying wicked claws and the muscles behind them. "You'll have me."

* * *

They were the first group to arrive at the house. Sesshomaru, Ferio, and Fuu stared at it, none of them quite ready to go in yet. Something about it struck them as… off. A car was parked in the driveway. The door was locked. All the windows in the front of the house were secured. It looked too quiet to be the scene of a crime.

But there was also a pile of newspapers building up on the front porch. Nobody had come to get them. Fuu scrunched her face and pulled herself up. She wished, not for the first time, that she carried a weapon on her, but after spending high school as captain of the archery club, the only thing she felt comfortable using were bows and arrows. People didn't have a tendency to walk around carrying an archery set.

"I'm going in," she said, hoping that she sounded brave. Ferio's hand landed on her shoulder, stopping her. She looked up at him, finding him look brave, but worried. She relaxed against his grip, relying on him. What would she do without him?

"I think we should get some more muscle first. Sesshomaru?" They looked at their boss, who nodded. He went in first, then Fuu, and Ferio took up the rear to make sure that no one could hurt his wife.

Sesshomaru gripped the doorknob tightly. He didn't sense anyone in the area…

CRUNCH!

Fuu jumped with surprise when the doorknob fell on the ground, ripped off at the handle. It rolled along the wooden patio, and she watched it. She could tell when Sesshomaru opened the door because suddenly… it _stank_. Fuu had never smelled anything so repulsive! To Sesshomaru, with his heightened senses, he actually felt nauseous. Fuu reached into her pocket and pulled out a handkerchief for him. He accepted it, trying not to look to grateful incase it ruined his image.

"What is it?"

Ferio was grimacing. He covered his nose with his hand, but it did little. When he spoke, he could almost taste it. It made him want to vomit. "Rotten food."

Fuu bit her lip to keep from saying anything. She was beginning to think that they had been too late to save Hilde.

"Does anyone else hear that?" She looked up to see that Sesshomaru's ears were twitching.

Concentrating, she nodded. "I can. The buzzing sound, right? Maybe someone left a television on."

"As much as I dislike the idea, I propose we move into the house. We look a little suspicious on the doorstep." They moved into the house. The air was stale, and even more potent. Ferio tried to do anything but cough. If he began coughing, he was going to breath in more of that… _stuff_, and then it would bother him all the more. Instead, he tried to joke. "Now I know why we're supposed to be the retired senior agents," he joked.

"Why's that?" Fuu inquired.

"We talk too much to really get anything done!"

Sesshomaru rolled his eyes. "Quiet, both of you. The sound is coming from upstairs. We'll clear this floor first. Fuu, stay here and watch the stairs. Ferio, are you armed?"

Ferio patted the firearms in his holster under his blazer. "Of course."

"Good. Give one of them to Fuu. Fuu, I know you don't like guns, but, desperate times call for…"

"I understand, Sesshomaru." Ferio had to give his wife credit for remaining so calm under pressure. How could she still be so polite and soft-spoken under the circumstances? When he looked over at her, he saw that though she may be polite, her face was strained and she looked, for the first time since he had met her, dangerous. She accepted the firearm and took off the safety after double checking the cartridge.

He must have been looking at her in surprise, because she gave him the tiniest smile as she braced herself against a wall, watching the stairs. "I may not like them, Ferio, but training includes the use and maintenance of firearms, don't forget."

When she was out of earshot and he and Sesshomaru were clearing the ground floor, Ferio whispered, "Is she good?"

Sesshomaru sounded almost amused as he responded, "She's never missed a single bullet on the firing range." He touched over his heart, indicating where Fuu was aiming.

They found nothing on the first floor. The only thing worth noting was a play room they found, a doll laying half-dressed on the floor, as if a child had dropped it in the midst of play. When he saw it, Ferio swore. Miroku had known that Fuu was connected to these unfortunate people, somehow, but Ferio hadn't guessed that when Sango had said "child" she had meant a little girl. How old was his niece? Eight? Six? Nine?

The trio continued upstairs. The smell was the most pungent upstairs, as was the buzzing sound. With each step, Fuu felt her stomach beginning to throw conniption fits, and she fought to get it under control again. The first room was empty, but the second room…

Sesshomaru was the one who opened the door. Half a moment later, he wished he hadn't. He swatted the flies in the air, and it took him that half a moment to realize exactly what he was looking at. Behind him, he heard Fuu give out a startled scream, and Ferio swear blatantly in his native tongue.

"What… what in the seven layers of hell happened to these people?"

He was almost afraid to walk into the room, but he found his feet carrying him forward.

Two corpses were laying on the bed. One had been female, judging from the blood-soaked, tattered remains of the nightgown. The other had been male. He wondered if this was what Sango and Akane had found when they had walked into that school…

Ferio was pale. His arms were wrapped around his wife tightly, trying to comfort her. She was crying, sniffling loudly. She knew that body. She recognized that dark hair and the way the pale eyes were staring at the ceiling. Sobs escaped her mouth, and she buried her face in Ferio's safe arms, trying to push away what she had seen. Fuu could never remember seeing so much blood…

"Where did Sango say the child was, Ferio?"

"I… in the closet, Sesshomaru."

Bravely, Sesshomaru walked to the closet door. He didn't hesitate on opening it. It took him a moment to spot the little girl hiding behind the rows of vestments. He found himself staring down at a nine year old girl. Her large brown eyes were filled with hope, but the rest of her seemed tiny, and dirty. She cowered into the corner at first. Sesshomaru dared not bend down, in case she saw what was on the bed behind him. Instead, he slipped off his jacket and held it out for her. He softened his face as best as he could.

"Don't worry. I'm here to help." Her eyes searched his face, and he nodded, as if she had asked a question. "Miroku sent me, that's right. He told me I could find you here."

She stopped hiding in the corner, but she didn't take the jacket, nor did she stand. He realized she was too tired to really do anything except to clutch her teddy bear. He nodded to it. "What's his name?" The little girl was silent. "That's okay. You don't have to tell me. But, if it's okay with you, I'm going to take you somewhere where you can get water, and food, okay?"

The little girl smiled up at him. One of her front teeth was missing. She held out a hand, ordering to be carried. Sesshomaru moved so that he could bend down and hide the bodies. He wrapped his jacket around her. She smelled like sweat and urine, but Sesshomaru found that he didn't care. He felt… spellbound by this little girl. Who—what was she that she could have withstood so much? She had the heart of a lion, that was for certain. He smiled down at her before he picked her up, and he touched her cheek gently.

"You should have been born one of us, little one." She would have been a wonderful example of all that was the best of demon blood. He wrapped his arms around her, cradling her against his chest and keeping her head covered so that she didn't see anything. Sesshomaru turned to the others, who looked grim.

"Take her out, Sesshomaru," Ferio said. "I'll start processing the room. Fuu, you go too, and help tend to your niece. Sango, Akane, the boys… they don't need to see this."

Sesshomaru nodded, and took Rin from the room.

He soon learned what a mistake that was, offering to take care of Rin. She refused to let him go.

He brought her outside. The ambulance that Sango had ordered from IBSP had arrived, but Sesshomaru had ordered them to remain outside. There was no one else in the house that they could help. He got a glass of water for the little girl and sat down beside her. She looked at the cup, and took a sip. The sip turned into a gulp, and the gulp to a guzzle. Sesshomaru reached over and took the cup from her. She glared at him and reached for it back, but he sighed.

"If you drink it that fast, then you're going to make yourself ill. Let your stomach sit, child, and then you may have some more water."

She continued to frown, and eventually she crawled over and plunked herself down on Sesshomaru's knee. He glared at her, warning her silently to get off, but Rin was firm. When Ferio came out of the house a grueling hour later to get some water for himself, he found Sesshomaru leaning against the side of the ambulance, Rin asleep against his stomach.

He grinned, and Sesshomaru caught him. Rather than telling Ferio to be quiet, he merely pressed a finger to his lips, indicating for Ferio to be quiet.

Ferio headed over to his wife. She sat leaning against the car, staring at the house. She was so pale and motionless, he thought she looked like a figurine of some kind. He approached slowly, wondering if she noticed him. His voice was gentle and probing. "Fuu?" She turned, her large green eyes filled with pain. He eagerly reached out to her, needing to feel her body and know she was still alive as much as she needed the comfort of his touch. Fuu all but flung herself into his arms, her hug so tight it almost hurt. Ferio buried his face into her soft golden curls. "It's okay, Fuu, it's okay…"

He made sounds of comfort, assurances that only he could give her. He felt her beginning to cry quietly. When he felt it, he held her tighter, kissing her hair and simply being there for her.

"We… we're going to catch th… them, r…right, F… Ferio?" she stammered.

"Yes, Sweetheart. We're going to catch them. We'll find them, don't worry. After something like this… there's no way that Sesshomaru will keep us off this case. We'll help our boys catch them, Fuu."

"Ho… how could som… someone do some… something like that?"

His voice lost its softness. "I don't know, Fuu. I really don't know."

* * *

Ferio was correct. Maybe it was seeing the dissected bodies first hand that had made him change his mind, or maybe it was Rin refusing to let him go, but for whatever reason, he added the senior agents to the case. When Sango and Miroku arrived at the Bureau, they were quickly ushered into a meeting room. Akane, Ranma, Ferio, and Kakashi were already there, as was Ichigo.

"Where's Fuu?" Miroku asked before thinking.

Ferio tried not to look disturbed as he thought of his wife. "She's upstairs resting. I gave her something to make her sleep."

Miroku's voice wavered. "And… and Rin?"

At that, Ferio had to smile. He pointed to the ceiling and leaned on the table, his gold eyes twinkling mischievously. "Now that, Miroku, is a horse of a different color, ya know? Your instructions were to the letter. We found her in the closet, dehydrated, and half starved, but alive. She's a feisty little thing, that Rin. Sesshomaru carried her out of there, and now it's like she's soulbound to him. She won't leave him alone. She won't even let go of him, not yet. Sesshomaru was going to take her to the hospital floor, but when she heard the word 'doctor'… well, you know how little kids are. So Sesshomaru is taking care of her, feeding her, making sure she rest, giving her a bath…" He chortled a little at the images of Seshomaru acting like a nursemaid. "She hasn't talked yet though."

"Not even mentally?" Miroku inquired as he sat down. The others gave him an odd look, so he quickly explained how they had been communicating in his vision.

Ferio shook his head. "She hasn't shown any sign of psychic ability, not yet."

At the head of their table, Ichigo looked frustrated. That, however, wasn't saying much, as he didn't look like Ichigo if he wasn't frowning. "May we please start this briefing? Most of you already know most of the details. We're just going to go over them again as a recap. Rukia is starting to process the two bodies that Ferio brought in, and it's my understanding that there's still more processing to be done, right?" Ferio nodded. "So we won't keep you too long. Let's begin."

He picked up a button and pressed it. The screen behind him showed a map of Japan, with stars to indicate exactly where the bodies had originally been found. "So far, as you can see, there's no connection in where these murders take place. Unknown, two university classrooms, and a house. However, all of them were at least secluded, or semi-secluded places. Next."

He hit the button again and a picture of body one popped up. Miroku saw Akane wince, and Ranma noticed too. With a grin, Ranma leaned over and whispered something in her ear. Whatever it was, it wasn't nice, because Akane's eyes narrowed and she looked ready to deck him, but she bravely put up with the picture.

"What can I say about body one? Not much. There wasn't much there." He hit the button again, sounding bored. "Body Two is a completely different case. It happened on the campus of Tokyo U. The victim was found in their bedroom, much like with Hilde and Duo Maxwel. They had been confined to the bed using rope. Sadly, no epithereals could be found on the rope, though we did find traces of latex gloves. This is our first clue that the murderer has some knowledge of forensics, or at the very least common sense. She was found without a drop of blood. She was cut open just below her sternum, and opened horizontally. Her heart and her liver were missing."

Ichigo struck the button again, and a new picture flashed up on the screen. As prepared for it as he was, Miroku still felt the bile rise in his throat, burning hot, when Eve's body was displayed on the screen. "Body three…"

"Eve," Miroku and Sango cut in together. They glanced at each other, and Sango backed down, letting Miroku talk. "Don't refer to her as 'body three', please, Ichigo. Her name was Eve."

"Fine. _Eve_ was found in the university by Sango and Akane. As you can see by the slide behind me, her body was found not too long after the murder. All her blood was removed from her body via needles in most of her major arteries and veins. Her chest was cut upon laterally. All of the internal organs just under the sternum were pushed down and the skin peeled back. The rib cage was cracked open, but we can't find any tool marks on the bones yet. Her heart was removed, as was her liver.

"In both cases, thus far, there has been very little forensic evidence. We'll need two days to process the bodies of Hilde and Duo Maxwell. Oh, and Sango, we finished processing that glass that you found at the Inuyasha residence. You're right. Blood was drunk from that cup, but it wasn't human. The DNA report pinned it as pig's blood."

Ichigo snapped his fingers, remembering something else. "Oh. And we got the report back on Eve's stomach contents. There wasn't a trace of chemicals in there, but she had appeared to have her last meal. Stomach contents revealed wine, a salad, and beef."

Miroku let out a low whisper, then shook his head. "She wasn't from a rich family. How could they afford something like that?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Akane asked. "Eve was out on a date. Even her clothes fit for a date. She wasn't wearing a mini skirt and a pretty blouse, with make up and earrings and a gold necklace when _you_ saw her last, now was she?"

"Well, um, actually, I don't have a clue what she was wearing last, except for that necklace." Miroku was quickly becoming indignant. "Eve wouldn't have gone out on a date! If she would have…."

Akane knew what he was getting at, and she reached across the table to pat his hand reassuringly. "Miroku, listen, you have to face up to it. I know that you liked Eve. I'm sure that Eve liked you, because you are a smart and very intelligent man, but… not every girl wants to have you as a boyfriend. Some just don't think that way about you, and maybe Eve was like that."

"But…."

"Enough," Kakashi snapped. He almost looked bored at the situation, but in reality he was just getting frustrated. He didn't like that his niece and three other capable members of IBSP were failing to catch these criminals! "You can all help Miroku and his pathetic love life later. Right now, we need assignments. Ferio and I are going back to finish processing the house. What are all of you going to do?"

Sango sighed. "I don't know… go through the lists we found on the computer? Go through the family photo album? Try to find some connection between Eve and the Maxwells."

"Good. And just so that you know, when I say _no splitting up_, I _mean_: NO SPLITTING UP," he said forcefully. "We have partnerships for a reason. Only senior agents are allowed to be on their own at this time. We have a full-scale alert on. They've attacked the family of one of our own. They _could_ be going after psychics, for all we know. After all, Rin's mother was related to our own Fuu, and we know now that the first victim had some connection to the occult through his studies. We need to remain united, not only for information, but for our very safety. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir…."

Miroku felt a little triumphant. Whoever this murderer was, there was no way they were going to get away with it when the entire force was on the lookout!

* * *

To Be Continued...


	16. The Connection

AN: Today's motto: Better late than never.

* * *

Chapter Sixteen:

The Connection

After the meeting was concluded, Miroku found himself set upon by Ranma, Akane, and Sango. All of them looked mad, and he knew why. It's because that if they had all chased after him looking worried for his safety—or possibly sanity—he would have bitten off their heads, but there was nothing he could do if they all came after him looking mad. What was he supposed to say? How could he get out of being sent to the hospital wing when he knew that all of them would be able to kick his ass if he refused?

And then, there was always the _other_ reason as to why Sango wouldn't come up to him looking worried for him. If she did, she was worried that Miroku would look at her compassionately, his blue eyes soft. She worried that he would stretch out his arms for her, and she would hug him. He'd hug her back, whispering reassuringly condolences, and Sango knew without a doubt that she would believe them. She'd believe his lies because it was the easy way out. It was so much easier to believe Miroku would live rather than die on this case.

As if that wasn't bad enough, she worried that after such a sweet moment, Miroku's hand would wander, and he'd grope her again.

She wouldn't put it past him to be so underhanded.

"Miroku," Ranma began, backing his friend into a corner. "You're going to go see Kagura whether you like it or not."

He looked almost panicked when he heard Kagura's name. "But… but… look, if you want me to see the doctor, okay, but can't we wait for Amy's shift to start?"

"What happens if you get another vision and get seriously injured because you put off going to see a physician?" Akane demanded.

"I…"

"Face it Miroku," Sango finished, crossing her arms. She looked so demanding that for a moment he wondered if he'd shrunk. He felt like he was looking up at her—up at all of them. "There's no way to escape. Either you go peacefully, or we'll drag you there. Do you want to go respectably, or kicking and screaming?"

Miroku panicked. "I… I think I'd go kicking and screaming…" He raised his arms defensively when all three of them took a step forward. "To anything but this! I'll go! I'll go! Geeze…" They surrounded him as he began walking down the hallway. He couldn't even run. With Sango beside him, he felt like he had an armed guard rather than a partner accompanying him. "I think a pack of hyenas would be more reasonable than you three right now," he mumbled under his breath.

Unfortunately, he seemed to have forgotten that Sango could still hear him. She moved a little bit closer to him. "You don't like the doctor's do you?"

He glared at her, pouting stubbornly. Sango thought it was actually a little cute. "No, I _don't_ like the doctor's. For one, it smells like sterilization. All those chemicals hurt my nose. Secondly, every time I've been in there lately, it feels like I've come out feeling worse than I have before, either because of mind-bending drugs that are supposed to numb parts of my brain, or because I have _needles_ jabbing into my arm! So, _no_, thank you, Ms. Genius, I _don't_ like the doctor!" Miroku shut his mouth and glared, turning away from Sango and ignoring her.

Sango was startled. Miroku hadn't been rude to her in awhile. Instead, he had been doing his best to put on a brave face, smiling, making jokes… She remembered how cute he looked when he had accidentally fallen off the couch the night before. Miroku was a clown, through and through, so where did this come from?

Ranma noticed her expression. "Don't worry, Sango," he said. "It's not you. It's Kagura."

"Shut up, Ranma," Miroku growled. For once, Ranma took a hint and shut up.

They escorted him the rest of the way in silence. Miroku stood on the elevator, wondering if they were going to push him off of it if he didn't move.

"We'll be using the computers on the library level. Come and find us when you're done, Miroku." Akane was doing her best to be cheerful and friendly. He had to give her credit for her tenacity. She was succeeding, too, but Miroku just didn't reciprocate those feelings right now.

"Whatever," he said, getting off the elevator. Kagura was almost looking better than being around Ranma sulking because he had been snapped at, Akane being over enthusiastic, and Sango looking hurt. Almost.

The doors shut behind him, frighteningly final. Kagura stood at the waiting desk, smiling at him. Instantly, he felt tendrils of seduction beginning to close about his body. He was fighting them off as best as he could, but he was tired. He was so tired. His body just wanted to give up fighting and go to bed.

Kagura's perfume was intoxicating. "Hello, Miroku," she breathed. When her hand touched the hem of his shirt, he realized that she was getting the upper hand. He didn't recoil like he normally did. "Come by for a physical?"

"In your dreams, Kagura. Just make sure I'm not bleeding internally and let me go, okay? I have a job to finish," he grumbled, sticking his hands in his pockets. Kagura's smile became mocking.

She was going to enjoy this.

XX

"So why doesn't Miroku like Kagura?" Sango asked as they rode the elevator to the library and research level. Ranma looked uncomfortable with answering. Sango pursed her lips, knowing that this was more than just Miroku trying to avoid needles as he had claimed. "Ranma…"

"Look, he doesn't want me to talk about it, okay? So, just let it drop, Sango. It's Miroku's problem." He felt four eyes landing on him and realized now he was getting glares from both girls. Ranma tried to recover himself and deter them from asking questions. "I mean it, you two. Miroku's a fully grown man. He can take care of himself."

Akane shook her head. She was touched that Ranma was standing up for his friend, but he didn't understand. "If Miroku has a problem with something, then we should help. I like Miroku, Ranma. We're not looking for a way to tease him, we just want to help."

Ranma was becoming more and more uncomfortable, but he was more than willing to join in once Akane sided with Sango. He knew that Miroku was wrong when he had told him that "it's my problem", but out of respect, he had let the subject be. Miroku _was_ an adult after all, and Ranma didn't want to lose the only friend he had ever had. At least with Akane and Sango pressuring him into telling, he had an excuse if Miroku tried to take it out on him.

"It's not the doctor," he told them. "It's not the smell, or needles, or anything else he told you. Miroku hates the doctor's, yes, but the real reason he hates going to the hospital wing is because of Kagura."

"Kagura?" Akane tried to remember her. "Oh. You mean Amy's partner? The demon with the red eyes and the really big, gaudy earrings?" Ranma nodded. "What's so bad about Kagura? She's just a physician."

"Do you guys know what her power is?" he asked.

Sango replied. "I know Amy's power. She can read herbs or bodies or something to diagnose a problem by just looking at you, sometimes. But I've never heard what Kagura's power is. If she's a doctor, I suspect that it's something similar to Akane's…"

He shook his head. "It's not. It's suited more to a hooker than to a doctor. She has the power to… control her pheromones."

Sango appeared puzzled. "But… that's not a psychic power. If she's a demon, then she has the power to control them anyway. I was telling Miroku… um, I was telling Miroku about it last night," she finished meekly, trying to ignore Akane's shocked expression. Akane had known what last night was, even if she hadn't been aware of where Sango had gone. Sango knew that she'd have to put up with the third degree from Akane later.

Ranma shrugged. "Yeah, I seem to remember reading something about that, but this is something completely different. It isn't natural. It's not like her body is pumping these things out and some men are attracted to it, you know? She can actually pick a man out of a crowd and focus it on him and tailor it to their unique tastes." His face looked a little sad. "When Kagura wants some male, it's very hard for them to get away from her."

A feeling of dread washed over Sango. Ranma didn't need to make it any clearer. Sango knew why he didn't want to go when Kagura was on duty. Her voice was horrified. "You mean to tell me that she picks her men, forces herself on them, and they're willing to do it all because of her psychic ability?"

Ranma nodded. "Like I said, Sango, it's better suited to a hooker."

Sango sputtered for a moment, trying to stop the spinning world and focus. "How long has she been after Miroku?"

"Um… I guess since it was legal to do so."

For some reason, Sango's heart gave a pained squeeze. It hurt so much that she had to resist placing her hand over her chest. The air was hot, and it was a little hard to breath. "Does…" She stopped talking, fearing what she had been about to ask. It was none of her business. She shouldn't ask. But… Sango felt like she _had_ to know, and stopping would make her look suspicious. She bolstered her strength to make her voice sound normal. "Does Miroku like her back?"

When Ranma told her that Miroku hated Kagura, she felt some of the pain leave. The hand that had been gripping her heart relaxed. Instead, she felt angry.

"Miroku doesn't hate a lot of people. He's actually quite forgiving. He's forgiven me for all the times I've insulted him, anyway. I know he doesn't look it now, but really, normally, he's just this nice, fun guy. Trust me, he loathes Kagura."

Sango was seeing red. The doors opened to the library level, and she waved her friends along. "You guys go. I'm going to go and visit Miroku. I can't believe that I left her alone with that… that _charlatan_! He doesn't want me to interfere, fine, but I'm still going to go and sit outside his room and make sure she doesn't try anything."

The doors closed before they could talk Sango out of it. Not that they would have anyway. Akane smiled. "She likes him."

Ranma snorted. "How can you tell?"

"Please! Besides the fact that I've known her since she was little, if Sango found out about that happening to someone she didn't like, she would have told them that it was good for him to know what it was like for the shoe to be on the other foot. Eventually she would have stopped it, but she would have let him get quite panicked beforehand, just to give him a taste of his own medicine. The fact that she's rushing off to go and defend him…" She smiled thoughtfully. "It's kind of cute."

"You wouldn't think it was cute if I did it for you," Ranma grumbled, trudging away from the elevator.

Akane followed him still smiling. "That's because I'd worry about you getting hurt, you idiot."

"Hey! I can take care of myself!" he said loudly, spinning around to see her and pointing at his chest. "You're the one who can't keep me from pinning you to the ground and taking advantage of you!" People in the library hearing this gasped, and the librarian sputtered at hearing such language in her library.

"Taking…" Akane's face went red. "You jerk! The last time we fought, you held me under you and you tickled me! That was hardly a fair fight! How can I throw you when I'm too busy trying not to pee my pants?"

"I don't know! Why don't we find out?"

Akane jumped back when he reached for her. "You wouldn't dare, you…."

"Children!" Both of them had been so busy they hadn't noticed the librarian approaching them. Hands on her hips, she looked down at them. For a little old lady, she had quite a presence. "This is a _library_! Shh!"

XX

Miroku had just finished changing into his hospital gown when Kagura entered his room without knocking.

"Mm, very nice." Miroku quickly sat on the bed so that she wouldn't stare at him, or worse. Kagura shut the door behind her, and he could feel those tendrils starting to wrap around him again. He could feel his heart rate increasing. Kagura's senses seemed to pick up on it too, because she smiled at him. "Miroku, they say that sex can help increase how fast you heal."

"I'll remember that next time I'm in the red light district," he grumbled.

Kagura looked hurt. It was so perfect Miroku didn't know if she had practiced it or if she was actually wounded he was rejecting her—again. Her voice became offensive. "You look like, crap, you know." Her upper lip curled a little bit as she regarded him. His hair was unbound—which was sexy—but it was full of cowlicks from sleeping on the couch. He looked like he hadn't showered yet. He needed to shave again, too. Now his clothes were folded on the empty chair in the room, but when he had come in, Kagura had noticed they were wrinkled from being over worn.

"I feel like crap," he admitted. For a moment, her scent in the room increased. Miroku sighed mentally. His voice was dry and monotonous. He was losing to her, and both of them knew it. "Look, Kagura, I have a job to do and so do you. I had two visions in the past twenty-four hours, and soon, I'm going to have to attend a briefing involving two dead bodies. I really don't want to be here. Can't we make a deal? Can't you just say that you examined me and let me go so that we can both get our jobs done?"

She was thoughtful, and he realized he had made a mistake. Good God, he was trying to bargain with Kagura! What if she wanted a roll in the hay instead of an examination?

"Okay."

"Wha—what?" Miroku hadn't heard her write!

Kagura fiddled with one of her earrings. "I said: 'okay'. As in: I agree. I have jobs to do. We're really low on morphine because _somebody_ keeps having visions and nearly dying on us. I have to go through the entire stock room and see what else we need. So, you're free to go."

Miroku was so happy he almost jumped out of bed and kissed her.

"But…" He suddenly deflated. 'But'. There was always a 'but'! "There's one condition. I'm upping your prescription because the last dose didn't seem to be working. It's supposed to shut down the part of your mind that deals with psychic ability, so if you feel weaker at first, don't worry about it. It's just your body readjusting to the medicine." She reached into a bottle and pulled out a small pill jar, handing it to Miroku. "I pronounce you healthy, Miroku." With a bow, she left.

He stared at the jar in his hands. He felt so weak already, he really didn't want to get any worse. If he did, he might not be able to make it out of bed. With this killer on the loose, the last thing he wanted was to be stuck in bed, incapable of doing anything. But… but he was dying. Everyone had been telling him that. How many times had his heart stopped now? How many times had he gotten nosebleeds? He looked down into his right hand.

How many times had he had to hide his coughing fits? How many times had he coughed and looked at his hand to find it speckled and flaked with blood?

He wanted to do so much. He wanted to finish this case. He owed to his partners to finish the case. He wanted to be able to proudly walk up to Katsayumi and tell her that the man who had killed her daughter was behind bars. He wanted to give her closure. He wanted to graduate university. He wanted to forget about his past completely and find a wife, get married, and have kids. He wanted to travel and see the world. He wanted to _live_ so much, how could he not justify being bedridden for a day or two?

He read the directions on the jar. _Take one every hour, and two before bed._ Miroku took a deep breath and opened the jar, taking a pill without a glass of water.

XX

When Sango stepped off the elevator, there was no sign of anybody. She jumped behind the desk and looked at the charts. There were only a few people on the list, so Miroku was easy to pick out. It was the shortest name on the list, and the only not written in Amy's impossibly tiny writing. Sango hurried to the room, knocking on it.

"Miroku?"

"Come on in, Sango."

She walked into the room to find Miroku doing up the button of his jeans. His shirt was on the chair, folded neatly. Sango looked around the room. There was no sign of Kagura. She was actually a little bit surprised… "You're done already?"

"I told you: I'm _fine_. Kagura took one look at me, gave me more meds, and left. It was quick, and easy…" He pulled on his shirt and found that she didn't believe him. She was staring at him, and he could see the mistrust behind her eyes. He had forgotten how her eyes turned into molten gold whenever she felt something very strongly. "Sango?" She refrained from talking. Miroku's voice cracked, falling. "So… Ranma told you."

"He didn't really have a choice once Akane and I both started on him," she said, trying to defend Ranma. The last thing she wanted was to be the cause of a fight between them. "Don't be mad at him, Miroku."

"Oh, I'm not mad, Ms. Tora. I'm _hurt_."

If there was one thing that always confused Sango, that was it. She had been brought up to hide her feelings. She had been brought up to think that to cry, to admit your feelings to people, that these were things people shouldn't do. Miroku didn't feel that way. When Miroku felt something, he wasn't afraid to show it or to tell people what he felt. She… respected that about him. Maybe it was why he always seemed so calm. When Sango felt mad or upset, she wanted to tear her hair out and kick and scream and _hurt_ something, but she didn't because that was to show weakness. Miroku, when mad, snarled, glared, and he _showed_ it, proudly.

But if there was one thing that always made Sango scared, it too was Miroku. How did he always know what she was thinking or feeling? She hid those things, but Miroku was always able to figure it out. Was she just weak around him, or was it because of his psychic powers?

"Why in the world would you be hurt?"

"Because when Ranma found out about Kagura, I made him promise to tell anyone. He broke it."

"He broke it because he's your friend, you idiot! Miroku, you may be a genius when it comes to your history courses, but when it comes to life, you're a fool! How could you possibly think that this is your problem? She's forcing herself on you! She's trying to play you! If we don't like it when a guy flirts with a girl who doesn't want anything to do with him, what do you think we call it when a fully grown women is misusing her powers to get you into the sac?"

He was getting mad. He stomped into his shoe. "You don't understand, Sango. This _is_ my problem. I'm available. She has every right to chase after me, and the fact that she uses her powers is unfortunate. It's no different than me using all the resources at my disposal to get a girl to go out with me."

Sango was shocked. She didn't know what to say. There was a misunderstanding somewhere. There was no way that they could be talking about the same thing… "I'm talking about sexual harassment, what are you talking about?"

His beautiful face was sharp with bitterness. He tied back his hair. "Sango, by now you should know what I am. I'm a player. I'll admit it to any girl who'll ask me outright. I get a girl, date her, have fun with her, sleep with her, and then find a way to leave a relationship with camaraderie on both sides. I don't want to make enemies, but I'm a guy. I like girls. I like their laughter, their scent, the way they can wear clothes and they have this natural ability to dance…" He trailed off, knowing he was already getting himself into trouble. "When I meet a girl I like, I will chase her and pursue her. I'll chase her to the end of the world if she's worth it, if I like her enough. That's what Eve was. I really, _really_ liked her, and now she's gone. It's no different me chasing after a girl I like than it is Kagura chasing after me. If I complained, I know that it would make me a hypocrite."

He picked up his light jacket and straightened. "So…" The room suddenly felt very uncomfortable. "Um, we're going to the library?"

She was staring at him. Miroku couldn't tell exactly what she was feeling. It was like she was feeling everything all at once: happiness, horror, surprise, loathing…

"Let me guess?" He tried joking. "Because I still haven't gotten a chance to shower, seeing as how I narrowly avoided an ambulance ride instead, you're going to make me sit downwind because I smell like I crawled out from under a garbage bin?"

"Please." His eyebrows rose when he heard the honest pleading in her voice. "Please, stop throwing my words back in my face, Miroku. It's quite insulting, and it lost its humor a long time ago."

Meekly, he lowered his head a shade. "I apologize, Ms. Tora." He brushed by her, his arm touching hers with a ghostly force. Sango felt shivers run up and down her spine as he walked by her. She was aware of every inch of him passing, from the thinness in his face, his earring, his broad shoulders, and his long legs.

"M… Miroku?" She heard him stop and turn around.

"Yes, Ms. Tora?"

_Do you like me? Would you ever chase me? What am I to you? Why aren't you calling me by my first name? Was last night's chivalry just you taking advantage of a sweet face and a girl who likes men with control?_

She shook her head. "Never mind. Let's go and find Akane and Ranma."

XX

When they found Akane and Ranma on the library level, they walked in to find Akane leaping out of her chair and giving Ranma a hug. Miroku grabbed Sango's shoulder when they continued to walk forward, pulling her back and indicating for her to be quiet. Sango felt perverse when she watched Ranma's face go red and Akane's display of affection.

It was cute, she decided, when Ranma wrapped his arms back around her, if somewhat uncomfortably. Unsettled and surprised, Akane's face became just as red as Ranma's. Her head was braced against his shoulder.

Akane could feel his heartbeat. It had grown quicker with anticipation when she had suddenly hugged him. If she wasn't so excited about their discovery, then Akane would have found it a little… relaxing. Ranma could be a jerk, and he wasn't exactly the smartest guy in the world, but there was a certain charm about him. She didn't know what it was, but she had plenty of guesses. He always did try to act like a white knight, and it was a little cute. Not many men would actually come to her defense when someone insulted her, but she knew that Ranma would. He was shy around her, which was as infuriating as it was entertaining. Better yet, she knew that he could control himself in a fight. That meant a lot to Akane.

She lifted her head, planning on asking to let her go. When she looked up, she found that Ranma was staring down at her. His lips were parted, his face surprisingly fragile… and scared. She wanted to tell him that everything was okay, there was nothing to be afraid of. To tell him that she was scared sometimes too…

"Ra… Ranma…."

He gulped, leaning down a little more. "Y… yes, Akane?"

"Could you please let me go?"

Sango and Miroku stared, their mouths open. Everything had been perfect! Why had they stopped?

"I was so certain that they were going to kiss…" Sango found herself mumbling. She hadn't been aware of where Miroku was until she felt his breath on the side of her neck as he whispered into her ear.

"He won't. She's going to have to take the initiative, because Ranma won't. He's never kissed a girl before." Before Sango could respond, he had passed by her and was calling to them cheerfully. She watched him walk away, noticing how tightly he gripped the arm of his chair as he lowered himself into his chair. His left leg was shaking, badly. Miroku glanced over and saw her staring. He crossed his legs, his right leg applying enough pressure to keep his left leg still.

"Guess what?" Akane demanded.

Miroku gave her such a charming smile that Sango knew he was faking it. "I don't know. What, Akane?"

"We found out that a connection between Eve and Rin!"

"What?" Miroku nearly jumped back out of his chair, and even Sango thought she had heard wrong.

Akane nodded. "Yup! Let us explain…"

* * *

To be continued...


	17. Breaking Rules

Today's words of wisdom: "...to aid in the defeat of my 'angel of vengeance'…Sango!" -Ninalee-Chan

(Because I really liked it...)

Chapter Seventeen: 

Breaking Rules

Akane began.

"Okay, it gets a bit complicated, so bear with us. Turns out that when you piss off the librarian, she'll do anything to help you get out of the library as soon as possible. So we told her we were trying to find a connection, and she proposed using birth and marriage licenses. We have copies here of all of the birth and marriage licenses in Japan. We aren't _supposed _to, but they're public record, so… we went through them. Let's start with Rin, since she was the easiest to find.

"Rin is eight years old. She hasn't been Registered, but she is a psychic. Miroku's story about hearing her thoughts prove that. She was born to Hilde Hououji and Duo Maxwell. Hilde is Fuu's cousin. She is a psychic. So's her husband. Duo Maxwell is an only child, except by marriage. When he was five, his father wed again, this time to a widow, a Mrs. Katsayumi. Mrs. Katsayumi wasn't a psychic. She was human through and through, and through that marriage, they have a daughter: Eve's mother. As her father had a son to pass on the family name, they agreed that she would be given her mother's surname, as is stereotypical in many witch families."

Miroku was smiling triumphantly, feeling like they had just found the key to the entire puzzle. "So, Eve and Rin are cousins. Albeit, they're almost twenty years apart, but they're related."

Sango was still a little confused. "So, if Eve was psychic, if she started this whole thing with Miroku, did it come from her grand-father?"

"Maybe," Ranma replied. "But it could have come from her father as well. Turns out that while Eve's mother didn't have a psychic ability, her father came from a very prestigious line of Seers. Her father's name was Sota Kanzaki. He didn't have the talent for Seeing because that's normally seen in females. However, he could have been carrying it recessively and passed it to his daughter."

"Which means that if Eve did have a psychic ability that demonstrated itself, they wouldn't have been able to tell what it was! They wouldn't have a clue as to what their families were capable of doing!"

Miroku's outburst was correct. Among human families, there was always a chance that psychic abilities would skip gender or generations. To keep their existence a secret, the Bureau had several laws and by-laws in place to keep parents from telling their children about the truth of their heritage. It was sad and painful, but most people recognized the importance of this. It was to avoid a witch-hunt, a mass extermination… civil war.

"So, there was a large chance that Eve was an unregistered psychic… But… we still don't know what they wanted with her." Sango's logic brought down their cheer. They had been so triumphant that they had found something significant, but they had forgotten the overall importance of the mission: finding the killer.

Knowing that she had hurt them, Sango tried to cheer her up. "But, you found out something worthwhile. It seems like this guy has a problem with the Katsayumi-Kanzaki line. Let's check the missing persons report and make sure that no one else is missing from their families, shall we?"

It took them all day. Towards the evening, Miroku was wearing down. He could feel himself slowing with fatigue and hunger. They had been so persistent in their quest that they'd all neglected eating. Akane had found some chewing gum in her purse, but it did very little to satisfy his hunger. He was so tired, he nearly passed by what he had been looking for.

Hitting the print button, Miroku went to Sango and leaned over her laptop. "Sango, didn't you find a missing persons report for a Fanel? For a girl about Eve's age?"

"Yes. Miroku, I hate to break it to you, but girls that age disappear all the time. It's unfortunate, but…."

With a wild grin, he held up the paper he had found. "She's married. It was posted by her husband, not a brother or father or whatever. Van Fanel posted the missing persons notice. Van Fanel married Hitomi three years ago. Her name was Hitomi _Kanzaki_."

Sango stared at the printout and then up at Miroku, clearly flabbergasted. The grin he was shooting to her was so wide it was ridiculous, but it was the most flattering, proud smile she had ever seen. His blue eyes were gleeful, positively so. He looked ready to burst out of his skin from excitement at his success.

"Sango, let me treat you to dinner, please?"

After everything that had been happening and the stalemate Sango felt going on in the case, she wanted to relax. She wanted to go and shower, dress up, and go out and have _fun_… But Miroku had screwed himself over. He had admitted to her what he was, deep down. "I'm a player," he had told her. Sango hadn't known before then. She'd thought he was flirtatious, and silly, and most assuredly a pervert, but not a "player".

His announcement had confused Sango. She was mad at him, and she wondered if he had been using those tricks on her, but a larger part of her felt insulted. She knew that all the things he'd said and done before hadn't been serious. He hadn't been trying to worm into her bed last night when he'd showed up at her doorstep. He had been there because they were partners. It left her wondering why she wasn't good enough to _really_ be flirted with.

She brushed those types of thoughts away. Sango told herself that she didn't want to be flirted with by Miroku. She had no interest in him whatsoever, not romantically or sexually. Sango managed to hold back her sly grin. "Okay, Miroku. Akane, Ranme, Miroku's treating us all to dinner!"

Miroku's jaw dropped. "I meant 'you' as in singular, Sango, not plural…"

"Too late now, Miroku. Come on. Let's wrap up. We'll go see this Fanel guy tomorrow."

* * *

Miroku couldn't find a way to get out of it. He was trapped. He was bound, captured by the words that beautiful mouth had formed, and too transfixed by the way her hair caught the sunlight. Even now, and was captivated by it. He couldn't recall seeing Sango with her hair down before. It swayed back and forth, shimmering in the lights of the sidewalk. Normally his eyes would be affixed several inches below the end of her hair, but he could always check out her butt some other time. This was something he only saw once in a lifetime.

After Sango had made her friendly little announcement for their dinner plans—which involved the use of Miroku's wallet—the girls had voted to change. Miroku, who still hadn't had time to shower since he had almost been awakened by the presence of a gurney strapped to his back, was all too happy to agree. They showered, got cleaned up, settled on a place to eat…

And all that time, he hadn't been able to take his eyes off of Sango. She was in a wonderful mood. Miroku wondered if she had just been tense before, what with her cycle and all. Now her smile lit up the room. Her eyes were bright. She looked hot, too. Miroku remembered the way he had eyed her when she had stepped out of her bedroom. She wore a blue sundress, one that clung to her chest and flared out at the hips. It moved like ripples in her wake. It was… it was….

He couldn't come up with a word for it, but Miroku knew what it meant. He wanted Tora Sango. He wanted her unlike anyone he had ever wanted before. It was like a physical ache. It was happy and bittersweet all at the same time. He wanted to dance with her, watch her… god, he wanted to kiss her again. A real kiss, this time. The kind of kiss Sango would never be able to forget.

"Are you okay?" Ranma asked, slowing down so he could walk beside his partner. He eyed Miroku suspiciously. "You kind of look… well, you kind of look like you smoked up a bit before we came out, if you know what I mean?" Miroku didn't answer, and he repeated his question from before.

"No. I'm not okay." He turned, pulling his eyes away from Sango, and he smiled at Ranma. "But I will be, Ranma."

Quietly, slowly, Miroku began to plan the seduction of Tora Sango.

* * *

Part way through their supper together, Miroku realized that it would never happen. He'd never be able to seduce her. She barely even let them have a second together. Instead, the conversation was full swing, from the merits of J-Pop to the latest anime show, to bitching about their respective university and programs. Oh, he could try and up the conversation to the levels of Descartes, Fukuyama, and Nietzsche as much as he liked, but he really doubted that having a philosophical conversation at U-chan's would really make Sango fall desperately in love with him.

Besides, he had to face the facts: they were business partners. They fought together, both at each other and with each other. Sango was professional. She had been raised to be professional. She was like Kakashi's pet project: a bred and raised machine for the systematic persecution of wrong doers everywhere. She was like Bruce Wayne… only female. To Sango, he was just a passing phase.

Halfway through their meal, his cell phone rang. The others gave him glares, as if it was bad enough he seemed to be phasing in and out of their conversation, but now he was downright interrupting it. He checked the call display. He didn't recognize the telephone number, but this was his work phone. He only gave this phone number out to people like Wufei or Ms. Katsayumi. It could be one of them calling…

"Pardon me." He slid out of the booth, and went outside, where he couldn't interrupt anybody else. The cell phone kept ringing, and remembering the way his so-called "friends" had looked at him, he answered it with a terse voice. "Hello?"

"What's gotten your knickers in a twist, Miroku?"

Miroku sighed. "Nothing, sir." He recognized the voice as Wufei's. Nothing could hide his voice. It sounded a little static, however. He wondered where the old man was hiding. "I was just in the middle of something."

"Well," Wufei laughed a little, "I hate to interrupt you, but I think that I found something very intriguing. In fact, I think that you might be downright interested in what I've found, Miroku. This could be exactly what you wanted to find. It could be a case-breaker. I'm holding it in my hands right now."

Miroku was interested now. "Where are you?"

"That's not important, boy. You wouldn't be able to get here. Monks only, I'm afraid." Miroku listened intently, sitting down on the sidewalk. "Do you remember how you told me about your case? About your lady-friend Eve and what had happened to her body?"

"Yes." He sounded bitter, because he was. That old man was incredible. He had played Akane and Miroku perfectly, even storming out of the office. Everything Wufei had done had been so carefully planned that it put the two officers to shame. Akane had remained silent, however, but Miroku, desperate to gain Wufei's information, had told him everything, even though he could lose his job for it. He just wished that Wufei would keep quiet over the phone. Miroku didn't put it past people like Sesshomaru, or even that Urahara, to have some kind of recording device in their telephones so that they could keep tabs on the information circling in and out of the IBSP.

"Did you know that the heart is considered the most important of all organs when it comes to rituals? For instance, the Aztecs used to cut out the heart of their victims while their victims were still alive. Other cultures believed that eating the raw heart of your enemy meant that you gained their strength, becoming stronger themselves. I'm going to send you what I found, Miroku. You're a good kid, so make sure that these things get back to their proper spot when you're done with them, okay?"

Miroku wearily rubbed his forehead. "Uh, yeah, sure. Go ahead."

Things couldn't get peachier. Now some old guy, as smart and wily an old freak as he was, was going to start mailing things to Miroku. From what Wufei had said over the phone, he was terrified that he'd get home and find he had a bunch of bricks from an old Aztec temple piled up in front of his closet.

"Are you okay?"

Miroku looked up over his shoulder. Sango stood behind him, looking a little worried. When he was too stunned to answer, she walked forward and sat down next to him. Miroku's hand itched to play with her hair. She stared at him, finding his sudden quiet streak disconcerting. She was beginning to think she liked it more when he talked. When he was quiet, it was too easy to wonder what it was he was thinking. Sango felt like she was being regarded as a specimen in a jar, and that was not a feeling she liked.

"What is it?"

Miroku managed to smile at her. "I'm just surprised to see you out here, that's all. I thought you were having too much fun inside to come out and check up on me. Especially over a phone call." He wiggled his cell phone at her before he slipped it back in his pocket.

She smiled, her cheeks turning colors. Sango shrugged and wrapped her arms around herself, even though the night air was still warm. "I don't know why I did it, either. It's just… you seemed so… you seem preoccupied, Miroku. Something… just, you've changed a lot since the first day I met you."

"Yeah. I woke up," he laughed. Even Sango's smile grew at his joke. He reached out before he realized what he was doing, brushing his fingers adeptly through her hair. It felt like silk under his skin. Sango looked startled for a moment, but she didn't move away, nor did she tell him to stop. In fact, unless he was hallucinating, she looked like she might actually enjoy it.

"No, Miroku, it's something else…."

He grinned eagerly, leaning close to her. "Do you like it?"

Sango shook her head. She didn't beat around the bush. "No. I don't like it at all." She then paused, confused. "Of course, you were also such a jerk to me when we first met, that I didn't like you then, either."

Indignant, Miroku pointed out that he was a jerk to her only after she had been a bitch to Ranma. "If you remember correctly, the first thing I said to you was something closer along the lines of 'don't cry'. I was trying to be sympathetic and nice." Sango opened her mouth, but his watch's alarm suddenly rang, cutting Sango off. Miroku reached into his jacket and pulled out his pill bottle, swallowing another dose of his medication. Sango's brown eyes were kind, and approving. Miroku stared at her.

"Would you ever go out with a guy like me?"

Sango was shocked; frankly, so was Miroku. Being blunt was more of Ranma's style. Miroku preferred slower, methodical and poetic romances rather than just asking someone out. As he watched Sango's face, however, she didn't need to respond. He knew her answer. How long had it been since a girl had looked so horrified at a question like that? Miroku couldn't remember ever having been shot down so thoroughly by just an expression.

Sango opened her mouth to speak, but Miroku waved it away. "No, no. Don't bother to explain yourself Sango. I wasn't serious," he said with total conviction. He knew exactly what was going on in Sango's head without looking at her or guessing. He was falling back on the old escape route. At first Sango would feel confusion, and then the girl would begin to wonder why he hadn't been serious. "I was just curious, that's all. I feel like I've been losing my touch, Sango. I don't want to lose my touch."

"If you're expecting me to help you try and 'get your groove back' by offering you tactics as to how to bed women, you're sorely mistaken."

Miroku stared at her, and laughed, despite himself. He wrapped his arm around Sango shoulder and drew her close, kissing the top of her head. There was no sexuality in the act, no hidden intensions, just camaraderie. Sango went along with it. "There's that spunk I love so much! You're one of a kind, Tora Sango!"

After a moment, Sango leaned her head on his shoulder, grinning. She had been worried, right after she had spoken, that Miroku was going to throw last night back in her face, forcing her to remember how she had been more than willing to lie with him. It turned out that she had been giving him too little credit.

"So who called you?" she continued teasing. "An old girlfriend?"

"No. Wufei."

"What? That old monk-historian guy?" Miroku nodded. Sango reached over and took his cell phone, lifting her head from his shoulder. "I wonder why he called you."

"He said that he had something for me. Something about the case." Miroku shook his head, laughing, and Sango lifted her head from his shoulder, a feeling of dread suddenly descending upon her. "Wufei called it a case breaker. So he's going to mail me what will probably turn out to be ancient carvings or pictures of temples, or hell, maybe he'll even just mail me a heart!" He laughed.

Miroku's joviality made him blind. He was unaware that Sango's eyes had narrowed dangerously and she was looking suspicious. The mind he had so often regarded with cool approval was focused solely on him. Her voice was low. "Miroku… _why_ would Wufei send us something that he's calling a 'case breaker'?"

"Like I have any idea!" Miroku snorted.

"No, Miroku. I think you misunderstand me. If Wufei is sending us something because he thinks it could be a case breaker, then it would imply that he knows something about the case." Her voice turned freezing cold. There was no shred of warmth or camaraderie in it now. "How much did you tell him, Miroku?"

She watched all the color drain from his face. Even his lips seemed to lose their color. His smile vanished. "P… pardon, Sango?"

"You heard me, Miroku. If he is sending us something for this case, then it must mean he knows something for this case. Like how old the victims were. Like their names. Like where we found the bodies. Like…" She recalled what he had said a moment ago about being mailed a heart from the old monk. She moved away from him, jumping back as if he were something vile and disgusting. "Like how Eve didn't have a _heart_."

Sango leapt up before he could respond. When he reached for her, she slapped his hand away. It didn't hurt physically, but the rejection hurt so hard she actually saw him flinch. "No, Miroku. There's no smooth-talking your way out of this. You broke the rules! You put our case in jeopardy! My… my God, you could have put _us_ in jeopardy, Miroku! Did you ever think about that? Did you think about how they could get a hold of Wufei and get your number from him? Did you think that they could use him to find out what we know?"

Miroku was exasperated. He jumped up, pointing a finger at her accusingly and trying to use his height to intimidate her. "Look, it's not like I had a choice! He was going to walk out, Sango! And did you ever think that we were 'in danger' from the very beginning? All they have to do is get to Ms. Katsayumi and she can give them descriptions of you, Akane, and myself!" he hissed. "I mean, Jesus, Sango! What the hell has made you so paranoid? Is this what you get for working in there for so long? What are you jumping down my throat for?"

"Because it was reckless!" Sango poked him in the chest, and she suddenly stopped talking. For a moment, she fell silent. "You could have gotten yourself in serious trouble, Miroku." She paused long enough for the words to sink in, and then she was hissing at him again. "You could have ruined this whole case because of one moment of…"

"Are you two making out?" Akane was standing behind them. She only had a side profile, but from where she stood, it looked like they had been close enough together to be making out.

"NO!" Sango shouted, aghast at the very idea of it. Miroku was much less verbal about it.

"Oh. Because the waiter just brought in your desserts. If you guys want to stay out here, I'm sure that Ranma can polish off your meals." She smiled. "I don't think I've ever met a boy who could eat so much," Akane giggled.

Miroku smiled at her, doing his best to ignore Sango. "Didn't you ever have any brothers, Akane? A good, healthy young boy can eat a family out of house and home if the meal isn't filling enough."

Akane began leading him back inside, explaining that she had two older sisters, and no brothers. Miroku politely inquired further, leaving Sango alone on the sidewalk. Furious, the tiger-shifter kicked a garbage can hard enough to dent it, and then she panicked, trying to figure out how to hide it.

Didn't he realize what he could have done?

* * *

Her phone went off, vibrating in her pocket. She answered it, flipping it open and pressing it against her phone. She gave no greeting, and received none. Instead, there was simply a set of instructions. They played only once, so she memorized them. That was what she had been trained to do, after all.

She flipped her phone shut and crossed to the other side of the street. Her dress moved gracefully, but no one noticed her. She was like a shadow when she wanted to bed. Despite her attire, she did not seem out of place in the neighborhood.

Her mark was walking down the street, his hands in his pockets. It was dangerous for a man his age to be so carefree. She didn't pick up her pace when she saw her target, but she did widen her strides. With his steps so cautious and trembling from age, it was easy to slip up to him, and he put up no resistance when she braced her hands at the nape of his neck, making him quite compliant. His skin was sinewy under her hands, one on his neck, the other on his arm as she guided him down an alleyway. Once, he had been a fighter. She even bet that once he had made all the girls swoon by showing off when he was in the height of his prime—reminding her of a certain man with blue eyes working at the IBSP.

But now, now he was old, and frail. His blood was barely even worth spilling.

"Where is it?" she demanded, slamming him up against the building with a single arm. The blessings of her demonic heritage, the strength and speed, they came in quite handy for her job. His hands gripped her wrist as he struggled for breath. She relaxed her grip slightly, enough so that he could respond.

"Al… already gone…." He smiled, his black eyes twinkling. He was a smart ass, wasn't he? "You're… you're too l… late."

Her grip tightened, cutting off his gloat. She kept tightening it, snarling. "Then I don't have much use for you, now do I?"

* * *

Miroku sat in his desk, staring at his bed. He didn't want to sleep. It wasn't that he felt something was wrong. He didn't feel like he was going to have a psychic vision. It had nothing to do with that… and yet everything. He was scared of sleeping. When he was asleep, it was then that he was most vulnerable. Most of his visions had occurred when he was in the midst of waking up.

So his logic was quite simple: if he didn't sleep, then he wouldn't wake up. If he didn't wake up, then he wouldn't have visions at 6 am in the morning.

Miroku picked up his coffee in one hand and his book in the other, leaning back in the chair. He had been meaning to finish reading _Faust_…

* * *

To be Continued...


	18. Merry Christmas, Sango

Chapter Eighteen

Merry Christmas, Sango

Sango, exhausted both physically and mentally after such a long day, fell into bed and pulled the covers up to her neck. She heard sounds in the living room, and then a light knock on her bedroom door.

"Sango?"

"Come on in, Uncle." Sango wasn't going to get out of bed. She stared at the blank walls as she heard the door open.

Kakashi leaned against the door. He was dressed in his pajamas, but he held his book up to his face as he continued to read his book. He had just been in the middle of a good part when he had heard the door to his apartment open and someone tread quietly into Sango's room. While he doubted very much that it was an intruder, he wondered why Sango was coming to sleep in her old bedroom when she had her own room a level below him. When he saw that she was curled up tightly into a ball, the lights off, and that she had buried herself under her blankets, he realized it was because she wanted a break. She wanted to recall simpler times, and the company of family.

It hurt, sometimes, having Tora Sango as a niece. Kakashi reached out to her often, like when she had been seven years old and he had tried to take her to the zoo, but Sango had spent the whole day staring at the animals, bored. When they had gotten to the tigers, she had begun to cry so hard that they had left. Kakashi had asked her what was wrong when she had finally calmed down, and she said it had been because she hadn't liked seeing animals behind cages.

He wasn't like her. He wasn't a shapeshifter. He didn't know what it was like. He tried so hard to connect with her, to be a good father-figure, and often times he felt like he fell short. When she had been six years old, just having arrived in Tokyo, she hadn't left his side, sleeping in the same bed as him, but as she grew up, she became more and more distant.

Sometimes he didn't recognize her anymore. Work was the only thing keeping them together.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he offered. "I can make us some cocoa. I think I still have some mini-marshmallows around the kitchen."

She said no, but he saw her smile, her white teeth visible in the dark room. "Uncle Kakashi," she slowly began. Sango paused and scooted over, giving him room, and then she rolled over so that she could see him properly. "Uncle, what do you do if someone has done something wrong and you know about it? They broke the rules. They should be turned in… but nothing bad happened, no one was injured, and there could be profound repercussions for turning in this person. Do you still have turn them in if… if it makes more logical sense to turn a blind eye for once?"

"That depends," he said, sounding quite serious. Kakashi accepted her offer and sat beside her on her bed.

"On what, Uncle?"

"On whether or not this involves you having crashed the 'Vette."

Sango smiled again. Kakashi felt his pride improve at the gesture. "I'm serious, Uncle Kakashi." Her voice wavered a little. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I don't want to turn him in…"

"You said that he didn't hurt anybody, right?" Sango nodded. Kakashi gently began to stroke her hair for her. "Then, Sango, I don't think that you _have_ to turn him in. Just because you work as an investigator and have access to guns and handcuffs, it doesn't mean that you have to go around arresting everybody who parks a car in a no parking zone."

Sango didn't respond. Kakashi kept brushing her hair, trying to think of something to say as he watched her fingers curl, as if holding something invisible. "You don't remember Miroku, do you?'

That made her sit up in bed, confused. "What do you mean 'remember'? We just met, Uncle."

He smiled at her gently. "No. You two knew each other when you were little, too. You were almost seven, and he was almost nine." His voice took on a far away tone, as he fondly remembered those years, back when Sango had always depended on him in silence. Though quiet, it had made him feel useful again, like Arashi was closer. Arashi had always been quiet. "Miroku was staying here because he was in between moving. He was a lot like you, actually. Neither of you spoke a word to each other. You just sat beside each other, staring straight ahead, not acknowledging each other. I don't know who made the first move… but soon you two were eating together. You cried when he left, you know."

"I did no such thing," she said stubbornly.

Kakashi chuckled, pausing as he brushed her hair. "No, Sango. I remember. That was the first time you cried in front of me. I think it was the only time you cried in front of me. You saw him walking away, carrying his things, and you asked where he was going. I told you he was going off to a special school somewhere. You wanted to know when you could go to this special school, too. It broke my heart to tell you that you couldn't go where he was, because Miroku was going to a school made especially for boys. You wanted to know when he would be coming back, and I couldn't do it.

"Urahara was there. He told you that we didn't know when Miroku would be coming back. That's when you started to cry. You believed wholeheartedly that Miroku would be coming back, but you wouldn't say why. Urahara tried to comfort you, but you slapped his hand away. You used your claws and left some nasty marks on his arm. You came running to me, crying, wanting a different answer. I picked you up and held you, promising you that some day Miroku would return. I think that was all you needed to hear. You fell asleep soon after that, and went back to being quiet. Then you became friends with Akane, and you never spoke of Miroku again."

Sango was still staring at her uncle. She knew he wouldn't lie to her, but something about the story seemed impossible. "I don't remember any of that…"

"I don't think Miroku does, either. Both of you were going through some hard times. I think you may have blocked your memories about that time. I mean, you had just lost your parents, and I doubt that Miroku particularly liked being shuffled around from foster parents to foster parents, until he ended up getting…"

She shook her head. She scarcely believed she had heard correctly. "I'm sorry, Uncle. But did you just say that he was getting sent to foster homes?"

Kakashi nodded. "Yes. I thought you knew. You two seem to work so well together, I thought it was because you two understood one another." Sango decided to refrain from mentioning that Miroku could be a jerk, a pervert, annoying, and smug all at the same time, so that he could continue to stay on Kakashi's good side. The last thing she needed was her uncle following them around in trepidation for Akane and Sango's mental and virginal well-being. "How often do you happen to find two people who both are intelligent, psychic, decent fighters, and whose parents have both died…"

Her uncle continued, but Sango wasn't listening. She zoned out as soon as he mentioned parents dying. Her mind felt numb. She was barely aware of asking Kakashi to leave, saying she was tired and ready for bed. It wasn't until he left and she curled back up under the pillows that she could feel a reaction sinking in.

What she felt was anger. Sango gritted her teeth, feeling them grind against one another as she seethed in bed.

She had told him everything. No, not everything. She hadn't told him about her first kiss, or her academic life, but she had told him about her parents. If his parents were dead too, then shouldn't he have understood the pain and frustration brought up when she thought about them? Why hadn't he consoled her? Miroku was a decent guy, underneath all of his problems. He would have consoled her. Why hadn't he? He should have understood! He should have… have offered her some kind of sympathy, tried to make things better for her!

Had… had it been because of her? Had it been because of her hormones, because of her imbalance? Had he worried that an expression of pity or companionship might have seemed like an advance to her?

"Miroku," she grumbled, burying her face in the pillow. "You jerk."

* * *

Strangely, she didn't dream that night about Miroku, though her last thoughts as she fell asleep were about him.

_"Merry Christmas, Urahara." I held out the gift for him. He seemed surprised that I was giving him a gift. I don't think he had gotten me one, but I didn't care. I had seen it while shopping for Uncle Kakashi, and I knew it would be perfect for him. But then, Urahara was easy to shop for. He liked just about everything. Uncle Kakashi was the tough one._

_I was sixteen years old, and I had an enormous crush on Urahara. He was the most perfect person I had ever met. He was intelligent, and sweet, and he was good-looking too, for all of us who like the puppy-dog-slash-scoundrel look. He was also like me. We understood each other. Deep down, we were both cats, hiding in a human body. We knew how to control and side step each other when the other was in a foul mood. We knew what drove the other person. We understood reactions. He is a full demon, however, while I was a half-breed. There _were_ aspects of each other which we don't understand, but for the most part, I knew Urahara._

_There was no doubt in my mind he knew that I like him; probably since before the day I realized it myself._

_I can recall a lot from that night. It's a very special evening for me. I remember that I was wearing a green velvet dress, trying to look festive. I know it was maybe a little bit childish, but I wore elf earrings, too. I just really wanted to be Christmas-y. Urahara had even dressed up for the party, ditching his normal attire—save for the sunhat he always wore—and wore a crisp, pale blue dress shirt and khakis._

_I can still remember what the package looked like. It was so small it could fit in the palm of his adult hand. Though I had great hand-eye coordination, it was clumsily wrapped. I had tried too hard. I wanted it to be perfect, but it was held together in _layers_ of tape. The wrapping was red; the ribbon was green. I had curled the ends of the ribbon to try and make it look neater. _

_Urahara__ had slipped it off and had slipped it over his head. He said he thought the ribbon made him look more festive. I giggled at the sight of this curly, metallic green ribbon wrapped around the base of his green and white striped sunhat. He was right, though. It did make him look more festive._

_Outside, there was a little bit of a snowfall. The winter that year had been cold enough that there was a thin layer of ice on the lake by the cottage._

_Urahara__ carefully opened the package while Uncle Kakashi watched from the kitchen, where he was unwrapping the foil from a bottle of wine for himself and Urahara. Urahara carefully peeled off the layers of tape to open the gift, never complaining about the shoddy wrapping job. He was always the gentleman. When he saw what it was, he stared at it, a smile breaking out over his face, this one happy. He reached over and put an arm around me, hugging me tightly. I returned the hug, eager. His chest tickled my nose, but he was strong and warm. His cologne even smelled good, and the whiskers he'd missed shaving tickled the top of my head. Urahara was more than just a cat on the outside, sometimes. _

_"Thank you, Sango," he muttered. "I've never seen such fine instruments."_

_"They're not special or anything," I said, blushing. "I just bought them at a hardware store. I saw them and I remembered you saying that you always needed more of the really tiny screwdrivers and stuff, because they either get lost or they break on you. I figured that you could use a spare set in case they broke when you were in the middle of a really good invention."_

_Urahara__ lifted the artisan's screwdrivers from their case, inspecting the small tips. He smiled again. This time, it was like one of his normal smiles. His normal smiles were the ones I love the most. They're always so mischievous and mysterious. At the same time, they're almost wise. It makes me feel all fluttery when I see them. "I will try to take extra special care of these, Sango." He glanced at Kakashi and turned back to me with a theatrical sigh. "I guess I should give you your gift now. I was thinking about just leaving it for you so that you could open it when I wasn't around and save myself from being embarrassed…"_

_I felt dazzled by him. My breath caught in my throat, and so I spoke in a whisper. "You bought me a gift?"_

_"How could I not get my favorite kitten a gift?" he teased, laughing and poking my forehead teasingly._

_I frowned, feeling my elation burst. I was sixteen, damn it! How could he keep thinking I was a little girl, a little kid, a _kitten_? Just because I wasn't a grown cat yet in my tiger form didn't mean that I wasn't an adolescent!_

_Urahara__ laughed again, this time almost giddily. "There you are! Sango, no matter how old you are, when you look at me and try to be angry, you look about as ferocious as a kitten." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a box, a little bit bigger than a ring box. My eyes widened when I saw it. He stepped closer to me and he opened it. His breath ruffled my bangs. Inside was a necklace, a delicate silver choker._

_"It's white gold," he said, "not silver, so you can wear it. It's a shame you can't wear silver, Sango. I think that you look lovely in it." He handed the box to me so he could lift the chain out of the box. "May I?"_

_I turned around and reached for my hair, but he beat me to it, lifting my hair up for me. The ghost of his fingertips on my skin made my skin break out into goose bumps. _

_"I realize that it's maybe not the most suitable gift for a sixteen year old girl. It's not the kind of necklace you wear to high school, but I thought it would look lovely on you. Besides, Sango, for your age, you are a very mature girl. I think you can look after something like this…" His voice trailed away when he turned around. I could actually hear him swallow when I pushed my hair back over my shoulders, letting it cascade down my back. To my surprise, under the shadow cast by the brim of his hat, he looked like he was blushing. "I knew it would look good on you…"_

_"So," I asked nervously, blushing myself. "So, you don't actually think I'm a kitten?"_

_"Of course not, Sango."__ He took me by the shoulders and he pulled off his hat. His cheeks were still dark from his blush. His hands felt clammy, even over the fabric of my dress. "Sango…"_

_"Who wants wine?"_

_We didn't get anther chance to be alone that evening, as more guests started arriving. Urahara was the last guest to leave. Kakashi was already deep into the book Urahara had given him as a gift, so I escorted him out. Well, no, that's not the truth. Urahara had actually asked for me to escort him to the door and I was happy to oblige. He offered me his arm, and I took it._

_"Did you enjoy yourself, Sango?" he inquired politely._

_"I did." I smiled at him. "And thank you again for the necklace, Urahara-sama. I received many compliments on it."_

_He paused when I called him "Urahara-sama". He reached up and touched my cheek gently. "Your mother always used to call me that, even though I was technically younger than her… She was always polite, Sango, even when the situation justified her being rude, she was always polite. You are too, unless your anger gets the better of you. I think that's your mother coming out in you."_

_"I keep forgetting that you knew her…" My voice trailed off as I forced away thoughts of my mother. Ten years after she died, it still hurt to think of her._

_Urahara__ smiled down at me. "That's okay. It's the problem with being a demon, Sango. You're always much older than you look on the outside." He glanced up, and his smile became almost shy. I had never seen him act shy before. "We're standing under the mistletoe."_

_I looked up too. Part of me thinks that I should have never done that. His hat was still off. His gold hair clung to his head. His eyes were baby blue, only a bit darker than his shirt. And then he kissed me._

_It happened so fast, I didn't have time to react. One minute he was there in front of me, and the next, his lips were on mine. It sweet, light, gentle… it was perfect. It was the kind of kiss I would have imagined from a Disney movie. It was even chaste. I felt like I couldn't breathe, it was so wonderful. I was so concentrated on it that I didn't feel his fingers brush my cheek or his breath on my skin. My lips felt cold and numb when he pulled back and smiled at me. This time there was no charm or mystery to his smile. It spoke of a secret only he and I would know._

_"Merry Christmas, Sango."_

* * *

"What the hell happened to you?"

Sango regret the words as soon as they came out of her mouth. Where had the polite girl gone whom Urahara had complimented all those years ago? Besides that, she saw how much it affected Miroku. Or almost saw, as the mug of coffee he was holding concealed everything around his mouth.

He knew how bad he looked. A few nights of little sleep, friends to worry about, nightmares, drugs, pain… Miroku touched his face lightly and winced. "Among other things, Sango my love, I cut myself shaving. I think I lost a pint of blood down the drain."

Sango first grew angry and red-faced at the endearment, and then winced when he described cutting himself. She knew what it was like cutting yourself shaving, and it made her wince thinking about feeling that same sharp feeling in your face rather than just a finger or an ankle. Sango glanced at him again. Even his clothes seemed tired. They were wrinkled, and he hadn't buttoned his shirt properly. Sango eyed him up and down, expecting to see two different colors of socks, or shoes on the wrong feet. He looked as if he had gotten dressed blind.

There were scratches on his cheeks from where he had cut himself. Worse, he had missed a place here or there. The bags under his eyes were so dark that they were visible, and he was still wearing his reading glasses. His hair was untidy, and he had forgotten to put his earring back in. Sango suddenly realized how odd it was not seeing him with his hair pulled back, properly attired, and with his earrings in.

"Have I told you how much I love coffee?"

Sango rolled her eyes and pushed him back towards his bed. Why was she always the one to play nursemaid? She found herself mentally grumbling before reminding herself that it could be far worse.

"Miroku, you're not going out like this. You… you… no." She took the mug from him when he went to take another sip. "No more caffeine, Miroku. You need your rest."

Of course, Miroku was protesting. He did so loudly enough to wake up Ranma, sending the other boy in to see what was wrong. Ranma saw Sango wrestling with Miroku and a mug of coffee and took the mug from Sango. She offered him a thankful smile. He set down the mug on Miroku's desk and then helped Sango with Miroku.

Ranma calmly shoved Miroku on the bed. "She's right, you know. You really do need to get some more sleep, man. Day after day, you just keep getting worse, Miroku. Didn't you sleep at all last night, Miroku?"

His eyes were hollow as he looked up. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry as he thought of going to bed. To Sango, standing by the sidelines, she thought he much resembled the very face of desperation. How long had been going like this? She knew he had slept when he had stayed over at her place. Had he gotten any sleep the night before that?

"I can't sleep…"

"Did you try taking a glass of milk?" Ranma asked.

'Poor Ranma…' Sango understood immediately. She had heard that kind of voice before. Most teenagers who babysat kids with nightmares did. They understood the sounds of pitter-patter as a child came shyly down the stairs, clutching a blanket and looking timid. Sango had seen her charges looking up at her with those same wide eyes, frightened and hoping for some kind of protection. Ranma didn't understand that Miroku's admission meant not that he was incapable of sleep, but that he _couldn't_ sleep.

Sango nudged Ranma out of the way, kneeling in front of Miroku as he sat on the bed. "Why can't you sleep, Miroku?"

Recognition flashed through bloodshot his eyes when he saw her. It was followed immediately by relief. His hands found hers and he held them tightly. His voice dropped to his whisper. Sango no longer felt like she was talking to a child, but to a sleepwalker. "Because they come when I'm asleep. They come when my mind is open, as if in mediation. So long as I'm awake and moving, they can't come. I can't get relaxed. I can't get really angry. Anger spikes power, you know. I have to stay alert and focused."

"They won't come to you tonight, Miroku. You're tired. You'll feel better if you sleep."

Miroku smirked. "Sango, just because I'm a _wee_ bit giddy and I haven't slept for more than twenty-four hours it doesn't mean I'm senile." He indicated just how giddy he was with his thumb and pointer finger. "You can't keep them away."

"Miroku…" Ranma was getting frustrated. He muttered to himself something about getting sedatives.

Sango rolled her eyes. He just wasn't as good at manipulating people as she was. Sango allowed her features to soften. She hated demeaning herself like this, and she hated that Miroku had a point. His dreams did seem come whenever he was asleep or in a state of high anger or anxiety. Theoretically, they were putting him in jeopardy by forcing him to go to sleep, but he was burning himself out!

She touched his face gently, drawing his attention back to her. "Miroku… please sleep. For me? For Ranma and Akane? We don't like seeing you like this. Please… sleep."

He was full of confliction. She could see it in his eyes. Finally, he smirked. "I'll do it for a kiss." Sango just about hit him. "Not for a peck on the cheek. I mean a real kiss, Sango. Give me something nice to dream about."

She was shocked! …And irate, furious, pissed off, insulted, and just plain angry. Sango felt her cheeks starting to turn red and burn. Wasn't it bad enough that she had to flutter eyelashes at him and try her best to look pretty to get him to do something that should be natural to him? Who in the world did he think she was? Between herself and Ranma, they could wrestle him down and tie him to the bed and give him an injection to _force_ him to sleep, yet he had the gall to ask her for a kiss? For something so intimate?

Something about the whole situation made her smile at him. She should have known better than to try and out fox a fox. It would always end up at a stalemate. "Even swaying on your feet, you still have the energy to flirt with me."

"Only for you, Sango." She almost blushed at the comment before he leaned down and grinned at her, gesturing to Ranma. "I don't think he'd like me flirting with him…"

Withholding a laugh, Sango shook her head. "Tell you what, Miroku. If you sleep, and sleep until I come back from going and seeing Mr. Fanel, then I will give you your kiss."

"Promise?" Miroku sounded hopeful. Sango felt guilty for hoping he would forget her promise.

"I promise, Miroku."

* * *

It was decided, in the end, that Akane would stay with Miroku and make sure that he slept. She hooked up Miroku's lap top and worked from his bedroom. Once again it had become a make-shift home base. Miroku, eager for Sango's promise to be fulfilled, slept, and even agreed to having Amy give him a sedative to help counterbalance the caffeine in his system. Ranma and Sango went to interview Van Fanel, though Sango had to admit as she drove to his house, that she wasn't yet quite sure of what she would say.

While they were on their way to the Fanel residence, Akane's phone buzzed. She frowned when she saw it was Kakashi's number. "Hello?" she asked uncertainly.

"Akane, I have some bad news." Akane winced. "One of our agents inside the police force just called. It seems that they found a homicide victim down an alley way in an older part of town. Actually, it wasn't far from a shrine. I digress. Akane…" His voice became gentle and soothing. Akane felt her skin become cold as he paused, searching for words. "Akane… it was Wufei…"

"You mean that nice old man?"

"Yes."

"But…but how?"

He sighed into the phone. "I'll tell you later. It looks like this has something to do with our case, so I'm going to have to recap it anyway. I'm going to handle it. Ferio's coming with me as back up. Fuu's at home, recovering. Would you mind going and speaking with Rukia and Ichigo? They said that they would be done the autopsy later in the day. I don't want to leave them hanging, but I don't know how long this is going to take. We're going to have to ask for the body, and then there's the problem of him having been born in China… oh, and tell them to get a room prepared for when we bring his body over. The autopsy will have to be quick, so that we can get him back to China and he can receive a proper burial."

Akane was still in shock. Hearing Kakashi talking about Wufei, once a vibrant old man with the mind of a snake, in such a manner wasn't helping. She stopped processing the information he was telling her when he mentioned that she had to go and see the morgue crew. Akane's voice came out as a squeak. "Me? But… but sir, I'd be all by myself!"

"Yes? Oh, your orders. Akane, I seriously doubt that anyone would be stupid enough to attack you within head quarters. You'll be perfectly safe. Uh…. Where is everyone else if you're alone?"

"Miroku's asleep, sir. He hasn't been feeling very well lately. Ranma and Sango went to follow up on a lead. I'm just here watching over Miroku."

"Hm… I see." He paused for a long time, no doubt realizing that her duty was more than just answering the phone. She was supposed to make sure that nothing did happen to Miroku. "Well… at least bring them the message, will you? I think that Miroku will be okay for the five minutes it would take to run down to the morgue."

"Yes, sir."

Akane closed her cell phone clumsily. Her hands were moist. Kakashi didn't understand. There had always been Sango nearby. She could barely recall doing anything work-related by herself. Sango had always been there. Sango was the one who enjoyed the job. She enjoyed it enough for Akane, too. Akane would have been much happier taking her business schooling and putting it back into the family dojo.

She glanced over at Miroku, sound asleep, suddenly very envious of him.

He didn't have to go and walk down to the smelly morgue.

* * *

To be Continued...


	19. Messages

Chapter Nineteen: Messages

Kakashi followed the flashing lights to the scene of the crime. Ferio walked behind him, a little slower. At one point, Kakashi stopped completely and turned around. Ferio walked into him before he noticed that his friend had stopped. He faced Kakashi, still not used to seeing Kakashi's whole face uncovered.

"How is your wife?"

It was amazing that Kakashi could have such a clear speaking voice, even when his mouth was covered. Now it was still the same languid drawl, the voice of someone completely confident in their own power.

Ferio sighed. "She hasn't gotten out of bed yet. I think that I may ask Sesshomaru-sama to take Rin to see her. It's hard on her, not even having Rin to dote upon right now." He ruffled his green hair as he thought. Ferio was more than a little stressed himself. He sighed. Ferio, perhaps more than anyone at the Bureau with the exception of Urahara, knew just how much he owed Kakashi for coming and helping him with the local police force.

There was a real reason for the mask. The rumors that Sesshomaru-sama had injured Kakashi during a fight were entirely untrue. He wore it for another reason: identity, protection, paranoia. Take your pick. The IBSP tried not to get too involved with the police force, for obvious reasons. The police didn't know who they were. The police didn't know that things like demons and vampires roamed the streets at night. Careful procedures had been put into place to ensure that the human world and the demon realm of jurisdiction never melded: they had wires on calls, intercepting the ones about magic or psychics, they had people stationed in the government, they even had people stationed in the police force so that if any calls did get through which could possibly threaten the IBSP someone was there to take it.

Kakashi was one of those people. In fact, he was the head of them. It had taken arduous tasks, and years of work, but Kakashi had managed to make himself the Police Chief for Tokyo. He manipulated the human cops like men on a chess board. That was why he kept his face hidden. So that no one in the IBSP could ever figure out what his _real_ job was. All it would take is one slip from one of the demons he had captured. All it would take is one of them, and they could expose Kakashi. They would find Sango. From that family they would find Urahara and Akane.

It could potentially take years for the IBSP to recover from such damage, such a loss of their young ones.

"Thank you," Ferio said, avoiding Kakashi's gaze.

Kakashi smiled at him. "Thank you for coming out of retirement."

A small smile tweaked the corner of Ferio's mouth.

It was true. Ferio and Fuu were, in fact, retired from the leg work Ferio now found himself doing. They had desk jobs. They trained. They didn't investigate anymore. But, as Ferio had to admit to himself, he had missed it.

"Sir!" One of the officers around the perimeter of the scene had noticed them, and he went right into a salute. Others, hearing him, did the same. Kakashi waved them all down, and the one who had spoken first eyed Ferio suspiciously. "Sir, this classified site has been…."

He was wise to what the cop was trying to do, subtly reminding Kakashi that the site was for officers only. Ferio wasn't supposed to be allowed past the yellow tape closing the entrance to the alleyway. The flashing lights from the cap cars made the yellow tape flash different hues.

"He's with me."

Kakashi didn't need to give an excuse. He was the boss. If someone wanted to yell at him, then it would have to be the mayor, and then all Kakashi would be was present Ferio's police file. Ferio was there to do his job, just like Kakashi was. The older man hid a smile with years of practice as he remembered how often Sango and Akane had teased him about not having to do a real job while they were always out snooping into dumpsters or chasing down suspects, or whatever else the job required. The younger members of the IBSP always neglected to realize that their trainers also had duties to perform.

Back in France, Ferio's had been like Kakashi's job. The green-eyed gentleman was a proud graduate from a French university and had worked part time at the Louvre. He had earned his degree in occult studies….

_Ferio_ _came home early, dumping his bags on the kitchen floor of the quaint little house. He was whistling merrily, looking forward to putting his feet up on the couch and relaxing with a glass of red wine. Nothing ever told him that something was wrong. Time and time again he cursed himself for not having felt something was different about the house. Why hadn't he noticed there was no warm greeting? Why hadn't he wondered that his mother wasn't in the kitchen, making fresh bread for dinner the way she normally was?_

_Why? Why, why, why?_

"_I'm back, Mother," he called out, immediately diving into the refrigeration unit. He dug around until he found his favorite type of cheese. Ferio was already peeling back the wrapping of the cheese, hungry enough to devour it wax binding and all, when he noticed that nobody had answered him. He glanced around the kitchen, looking for a note from his mother to indicate she was out._

_He never got the chance. A hand grabbed him from the back, slamming his face into the side of the fridge. Ferio felt his head erupt in pain. It hurt to breath through his nose, and he could feel warm blood gushing down his chin. His neck hurt when his head was pulled back again for another attack. Ferio kicked and tried to elbow his attacker. His elbow went numb when he hit something rock hard. When he kicked and tried to hook his foot around that of his attacked, he grabbed nothing. Though he fought as hard as he could, Ferio could do nothing. For the third time, he struck the fridge. This time, the attacker let go when he felt Ferio's legs give out. Ferio was sinking into unconsciousness. He fell to the ground in slow motion, a mixed blessing._

_As he fell, he spun, and he saw the face of his attacker. He saw that horrid, inhuman face, and the strange being knew it, too. He lashed out a hand, catching Ferio's cheek with a long, thin talon. Ferio didn't feel it land, though he had been wounded deep enough for him to scar. Darkness enveloped him when his head struck the ground, and almost every day after that, he wondered why the demon hadn't finished him off._

_When he came to, night had fallen. Ferio immediately got up, thinking of his mother, though pain made him move slowly. His head had never felt like this before. Even blinking made his brain hurt. He gingerly touched his head and felt that his hair was stuck to his head from dried blood._

'_Mom…'_

_He grabbed the meat cleaver from the kitchen before he went upstairs. Ferio climbed the stairs on unstable legs, leaning heavily on the railing. The house was silent, and still. He could hear the raspiness of his own breathing. He could hear the thick carpet under his feet starting to crunch with the rise and fall of his feet. He called out but there was no answer._

_After he found his parents, he'd never set foot in that house again._

_He called the police. They came and escorted him to the hospital so he could be looked after. The nurses bandaged his head, though they said that it was a miracle and he had already healed. Even his cheek was already pink and starting to knit together. Whenever Ferio looked over his shoulder, there was a cop there. The nurses insisted that he stay the night in case his head injury was worse than they thought. Ferio didn't fight it, and he watched the cop settle in a chair across from his bedroom._

_He winced when the nurse put the IV in his arm, but he was asleep minutes afterwards when the drug began working,_

_When he woke up, the room was dim. A man stood in front of him, drawing the blinds that gave his room light. His vision was hazy. Ferio glanced over at his arm. The IV was gone, hanging by his side. The man wanted him awake. He gulped, trying to get comfortable and scan the room for a weapon, for…_

"_You're not going to find anything," the man said. "What do you think, Mr. de Forest? That a nurse is just going to leave a scalpel lying around here? Relax." The man pulled up the guest chair and sat beside Ferio. His face was human, and kind. Ferio felt himself relax, but only a little. "I apologize for being so inconsiderate, but it is of the outmost importance that we speak of your parents. You found them, yes? Did you happen to spot the killer, perhaps leaving the premises, or…"_

"_Isn't it considered polite to introduce yourself, first?"_

_Pleasantries were exchanged. When he learned the man was a police officer, Ferio demanded to his see his badge. He inspected it from every angle to make sure it was real. He felt paranoid, and wondered if that was the first sign of insanity. After all, what he had had seen, it couldn't have been real!_

"_I repeat my earlier question, sir. Did you…"_

"_Look, I don't know what you want to get out of this, but even if I did tell you anything, you wouldn't believe me. I'm not going to be able to help you. No jury in the world would believe me." He looked away. As far as he was concerned, the conversation had been over as soon as the man had hinted he wanted a witness' report._

"_Are you certain? I can believe a lot," the police officer said, trying to be sincere._

_Ferio refused to speak anymore._

_He went and he stayed with friends. His parents were buried and he put flowers on their graves. He began looking into getting into a police foundation training course. He quit his prestigious—if only part-time—job at the Louvre. He took up martial art courses, studying three different kinds, sometimes all three of them in one night. He found it very hard to sleep, and worse, the cop from the hospital wouldn't let him alone. Ferio kept receiving phone calls and text messages from him. Even his friends were called and asked if they had heard Ferio say anything._

_The strange thing, Ferio would learn one day, was that people who were psychic or special, they had this way of collecting friends which were like them, whether or not they knew it or not. Some of his closest friends had latent powers, like him. Others used theirs, when they could, and knew about the IBSP. They helped the cop, playing the double agent._

_A month after the incident, Ferio was exercising in the basement of his best friend's house. He was trying to see how many push ups he could do now that he had been working out for a month. He had just applied for police training and he would be damned if they would flunk him on his first year just because he had been pushing pencils for too long. The doorbell rang when he was on the twenty-fifth pushup. Grabbing his towel, he headed upstairs and answered the door._

_Ferio opened the door to find the prettiest, most sweetest looking girl he had ever seen. Her skin seemed to shimmer with gold. Her hair was a blend of all the shades of yellow and blonde Ferio had ever seen: wheat, white-gold, strawberry blond, and others. It tucked about the base of her ears, the curls tickling her cheeks, making her look almost angelic and young. Age wise, he guessed that she really was about his age, but there was something about her demeanor that made her look delicate. She was thin and willowy, her clothes almost looking too big for her frame, and she was appealing. She breathed of warmth and comfort and of beauty, the way a flower does. Her lips were a light, dusty pink from her make up, soft looking. When he saw her eyes, Ferio knew then that he wanted her._

_Her eyes were emerald green, open, and without reservation. They were large in her face, wide eyed and innocent. He had never seen such a deep shade of green before. Her lashes were the same gold color as her hair. She had no need to darken them, however. This girl didn't need to bashfully lower her eyes to look gentle or to curl men around her finger, not with eyes like those._

_She stared back at him a moment, and her lips moved. The words she said were almost said in perfect French, without any accent at all, and yet they seemed hollow somehow._

"_Mr. de Forest?"_

"_Yes?" He wondered how she knew him, and finally, he peeled his eyes away from her face. Across the street, sitting in a car, sat the cop who had first approached Ferio in the hospital. His face darkened. 'Damn it… will they ever leave me alone?'_

_The girl paused and pursed her lips. She reached out and gently touched his cheek, drawing his gaze back down to her. His mind went numb for a moment, but then the sensation passed. "My name, sir, is Hououji Fuu. I have traveled all the way from Japan_ _to come and speak with you. May I please do so, in private?"_

"_Jesus… are French cops really so bad nowadays that they have to recruit young ladies from Japan_ _to come and investigate for them?" he grumbled. Fuu began to respond but he cut her off, holding the door open for her briskly. "Yeah, sure. You can come on in. I doubt that they're going to let this go any other way." He was in a foul mood now. He could have made himself forget it. He didn't want to remember it. He didn't want to relieve it. Then they had to go and find his weak place: a cute face._

"_It was not like that," she said, shaking her head and following him into the living room. She watched him flop down on a couch. "They requested help, preferably from Japan. I am the response." She looked around at the apartment, and he watched her pert nose curl when she had to push aside a take out box to sit down on the edge of a chair. She continued after nervously patting down her hair. "I was wondering, Mr. de Forest, if you knew why you had green hair."_

_Chills suddenly went up his spine. How did she know? He sputtered, trying to find something to say coherently, but failed. The girl smiled at him. "I do. I know why you die your hair black to try and hide it, and why you really have gold eyes. I shall tell you, if you will believe me for only one second."_

"_N… no. I mean, ah, god! Jesus Christ, how did you know?" He finally managed to get the words out._

_She smiled at him. "I am a psychic."_

"_I don't believe in psychics," he snapped. The girl never lost her stride._

"_Just because you don't believe in them doesn't mean they don't really exist. If I chose not to believe in the existence of North America, never having been there myself, it would still exist. I bet that you don't believe in demons, either."_

_Ferio shook his head, becoming unnerved by this girl. There was a polite smile on her face, but it was completely false. She seemed to mistrust him. The girl reached into the briefcase by her side, drawing out a file of papers. She placed them on the coffee table, on top of a stack of old newspapers._

"_How is it, then, that a man who doesn't believe at all in the mystic would write his masters paper on a comparison of the demonology between various areas of Eurasia._" _Ferio's mouth fell open when he found himself staring at the paper that had gotten him his Master's Degree in ancient civilizations. Fuu continued. "I read it. It was quite an interesting paper. I do not believe that anybody was ever so ambitious to compare demons from the Orient and northern Britain_ _before, however. Do you actually believe in any of the animals you mentioned? Do you believe in griffins, unicorns, demons, pookas?"_

_Ferio, at this point, was really too stunned to speak. After a long pause, the girl continued. "I am not asking you to believe in them. I am not asking you to believe that I am really psychic, Mr. de Forest. I am simply asking you to believe in me. I believe in all these things that you mentioned in this paper. And I believe in you. Whatever it is you saw, I believe that you saw it, even if you don't. All we're asking for his confirmation." She paused, swallowing deeply. "Help us, and if you want, I will answer whatever questions you have. But please, also keep in mind that you know as well as I do no gun can hurt this creature. No knowledge of martial art can hurt this creature. If you truly want revenge, Mr. de Forest, then I am the only one who can offer it to you."_

_He was still staring at the coffee table when she left._

_For two days, he didn't call her. That first night, he went upstairs to the washroom and locked the door. He took off his contacts and for the first time in a long time, he saw his own eyes in the mirror. His eyes were bright yellow, the color of gold. They looked very much like cats' eyes, but with a normal pupil. When he took them out, he was astonished at what he could see. The colored lenses he wore made him feel blind. Everything was always tinged green. Now everything was so clear he could see the grain in the cement of the bathroom floor._

_He had worn the contacts since he had been a little boy. His parents told him never to tell anyone that he had yellow eyes, as if they were a sign of shame. He didn't even know if his parents had also had them, not until he was older. They had shaved his head when he was a little kid. Ferio didn't mind. Short hair was in. He thought it made him look tough._

_On the second day after he had met Fuu Hououji, he found the card she had left for him. It was hidden on the coffee table. Nothing was on it save her name and a number. He had debated throwing it out, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. She had been articulate and kind. She had left the choice to him. And better yet, she had promised him the two things he knew he would never really be able to have: answers and revenge. He called her two hours after he found the number, and they arranged to meet again._

_This time, Ferio cleaned up the flat._

"_Thank you for seeing me," she said as she sat down on the couch. This time there was no hesitation, no wrinkling of her nose. Fuu pulled out a pad of paper from her briefcase and her pen from her pocket. "We can get straight to the topic if you wish, that way you can get this over with as quickly as possible."_

_Ferio sank into his chair. "Can't we ease into it?" he asked. He suddenly got an idea. "Wait! If you're a psychic, can't you just do a Tarot card reading or something?"_

_She shook her head. "I'm not that kind of psychic."_

"_Oh…" He was too preoccupied to ask what she meant by "that kind". He ran a hand through his hair, sighing. He excused himself and fetched a bottle of wine. He returned after pouring himself and his guest a glass of wine. It allowed him to distract himself from the upcoming conversation, if only for a moment. Ferio sat back down, asking, "Where should we begin?"_

"_Let's start at the very beginning."_

"_I came home, and…"_

"_How did you become interested in the occult?" Ferio was surprised. Fuu's expression softened and she let her pen fall so that she could reach over and pick up the glass of wine on the coffee table. She fluffed her hair again. "It's clear, sir, that you are very uncomfortable with this situation. Let's talk first, Mr. de Forest. Make yourself comfortable."_

"_Call me Ferio, for one." He was almost delighted when her cheeks suddenly turned the same color of pink as a rose. "I've always been interested in the occult," he said, "ever since I was a little boy. I've read everything I could find on the subject. For a long time, when I was a kid, I even wondered if I was somehow related to those people I read about. But all little kids think that. Even if they say they don't, they're lying. All little kids want to really be wizards, demon slayers, shape-shifters, something special and superhuman. In high school, I decided to focus on ancient civilizations. It has everything: philosophy, war, technology, religion… you've read the result of that work."_

"_But you like forests and animals too, don't you? Why not become a biologist or a horticulturalist?" she inquired. _

_Ferio_ _had to give her credit. Deep down, he knew that she shouldn't know such things. She shouldn't know the things he liked, what he really looked like… and he, being the sucker for a cute face he was, still wanted to reply. That was why Fuu had _really _been chosen for this mission: with her sweet voice politeness, and gentle demeanor, there was no way Ferio could resist her even when she began to touch personal subjects. He earnestly wanted to help her, because of the traits she displayed._

"_You're right," he laughed. "I did always like those things. I don't know why I didn't work with plants or animals. Something drew me to this. Maybe it's because it's such an academic field. I mean, look what I could do with a classics minor: museum curator, professor, writer… I could tour and guest lecture… I could work my whole life in the academic field and it would make me happy. But apparently having a master's doesn't mean much anymore. Look at me. All I could manage to get was a part time job."_

_Fuu_ _tilted her head. Her hair brushed her lips as she spoke. "What is your normal routine when you come home from work?"_

_He scratched his head. "Normal… ah, well, you're going to think me boring," he blushed. "I come home through the kitchen. Mom's normally making dinner. I put down my bag, get the bills, pour my mother and I a glass of wine, and we'll talk while she makes supper. Mom was ecstatic when I decided to move back home after university. With Dad's heart, he can't do everything around the house. Please, don't think me mean for moving back home and having my mother do all the cooking. She loves to cook. We joke that's why her food tastes so good, because it's made out of love. She makes this… that is, she used to make…"_

_That was the sign for which Fuu had been waiting. She reached across the table. Ferio's hand was on his knee. Fuu took it into hers, holding it soothingly. He never even recalled seeing her put down her wine glass. "Ferio," she said, in a voice barely above a whisper. "What happened to you when you came home that day? Was anything different?"_

"_No. Nothing. Mom wasn't… something _was _wrong," he realized, picking up speed. "Mom wasn't in the kitchen. I didn't think of it. Mom sometimes naps, and then that means it's my turn to make dinner. But Dad… Dad normally falls asleep in front of the television, so I'll come home and it will be playing in the background. The television wasn't on that day. God! I'm such an idiot! Damnit!" He tore away from Fuu's hand and rampaged back and forth across the room, his whole body tight. "Damn! Nothing! There was _no _sound!"_

"_Ferio, there was nothing you could have done at that point to save them," Fuu told him gently. The fact that she had her eyes focused solely on him was already enough to start calming him down. It was hard to be angry when those pretty green eyes were focused on you. "Did you see him? The demon? That's how you got that scar on your face, wasn't it?"_

_He nodded. "The bastard slammed me into the fridge before I passed out." Ferio touched his cheek gently, feeling the raised lip of a thin scar over his cheekbone. "I've always been a quick healer. Still, it took about a week to heal."_

"_What did you do after you woke up?"_

_He was very slowly paling as he remembered. "I went upstairs to check on them. I thought my parents could have hid. I just… I didn't want them to be dead." His breathing was heavy, but he continued. He wanted to tell Fuu. He wanted to help her with this case. "I found Dad at the top of the stairs. His head was turned around. I saw my mother down the hallway. Her clothes were tattered and blood-soaked. There was so much blood…"_

_She was right beside him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and helping to support him. Ferio clung to her. She smelled like sunshine. That was how Ferio met Fuu. That was how he fell in love with her. He never let go of her after that. She brought him into the world of the Independent Bureau of Studies of the Paranormal._

_Fuu_ _had given him a new life._

Ferio only had to take one look at the crime scene for all these memories to come flooding back to him. Wufei was laying spread eagle on the ground, just like Ferio's mother had been. Blood had pooled one the ground, and had been smeared on the ground and the walls of the alleyway in glyphs and symbols. Ferio saw hundreds of signs he recognized as having either a religious or magical association: crosses, moons, sigils, hieroglyphs, and pentagrams. Most of them didn't belong. He recognized an ankh, a hieroglyph standing for long life, and it dawned on him.

This wasn't ritualistic, it was staged.

It was a message.

The walls meant nothing. Ferio didn't even bother to look at them anymore. He simply walked carefully, one foot in front of the other. He needed to se Wufei's body to be certain.

Wufei's face stared up at him. It was barely recognizable. The jaw had been crushed, and his eyes were gone, missing entirely. Blood had soaked his pristine white clothes, and grime mingled with everything. Ferio didn't need a doctor to tell him any of that. He knew. That was how this particular type of demon liked killing. The demon liked eyes. The rarer the eyes, the more it wanted them. It hunted its victims, sometimes for up to days. It caught them alone, and crushed their jaws so they wouldn't scream or bite them. Then it went for the vocal cords. A powerful enough strike, well aimed, made their vocal cords immobilized, and often made the person fall unconscious. Then it sat on their chest, their knees on the shoulders of the victims, and it used its nails—deadly, four-inch nails—to remove the eyes from their victim.

Ferio's mother had had gold eyes, just like her son.

"Well?"

He turned to find Kakashi approaching him, following the same path Ferio had taken. He frowned and gestured around them. "This was meant for us to find, Kakashi. Look at the walls! An ankh? A yin-yang? All this was done post-mortem to make sure that _we_ were called in. Wufei's body is a message."

Kakashi looked up from the body laying in the middle of the empty alleyway. "It is?"

"Yes. It's a message for me. I found my mother like this a little over 20 years ago. She had been killed by a demon, by this kind of a demon. The scene was well-staged, Kakashi. I can't even tell if Wufei was killed by a real demon, or someone well versed enough in demonology to be able to duplicate it. They knew, Kakashi. Whoever did this knew I would see it. They know I'm on this case."

The older man wondered if perhaps Ferio was being paranoid. Of course it would look like the message was meant for Ferio: Fuu's family had been targeted. He wanted to rationalize those deaths, somehow, so he came up with an elaborate theory… But Kakashi was willing to give Ferio the benefit of a doubt. If anyone should know that odd things happened in the world, it should be Kakashi. He could accept that it was a message, but not that somebody would be able to discern who was working on this case.

"That's impossible!" But it didn't sound like Kakashi actually believed it.

Ferio's green eyes suddenly seemed to burn gold, even through his contacts. "It's not. All he needs is a psychic. We both know that. They knew I was coming. The message is clear: we know who you are, we know how to hurt you, we know what scares you. Tell me, Kakashi, what scares you the most?"

The older man stared at the body, and then shuddered, suddenly seeing Sango's face staring up at him.

* * *

He was just a person. He was a living, breathing person, just like her. However, there was something about Kurosaki Ichigo that made Akane nervous. He stood in there in the front office of the mortuary, staring at her, his brows furrowed and his lips tight. He didn't blink. He just kept staring. Akane gathered all the courage she could and approached the red headed man.

"What are you looking at?" she demanded, sounding irritated.

Ichigo grinned. If there was one thing Akane found more disturbing than Ichigo's normal expression—which always made him look like he had a stick up his ass—it was his smile. There was almost a reckless, insane look in Ichigo's brown eyes when he smiled. At times, it made Akane wonder if Ichigo was all together.

"Oy! Rukia!" he shouted.

"What?" Her voice echoed from the back.

"Akane's here!"

In a mater of seconds, Rukia popped her head out of the back room. She smiled briefly, greeting Akane, and then looked at her partner. Her smile vanished. "Quit scaring the girl, Ichigo." Rukia turned to Akane and let out a quiet, feminine grunt. Akane understood it as 'follow me'. When she saw that Rukia was leading her to her private office, Akane relaxed. She didn't really want to see what the bodies looked like.

Rukia shut the door behind Akane, gesturing for her to sit down. Akane tried to hide her smile when Rukia jumped up on the desk. When she stood next to Ichigo, sometimes it was hard to believe that she was really five feet tall. Rukia picked up the manilla folder and opened it.

"I'll go straight to business, Akane. I don't want to dwell on this any longer than we have to. Both individuals died within moments of each other, but they weren't killed in the same manner. Hilde was dissected, like Eve and the second victim. Her skin was systematically peeled back, organs exposed, and removed. Duo, on the other hand. I can't tell what the hell cut him up. The cuts on him aren't clean. Ichigo figured it out, when we couldn't find any teeth marks in our references materials to match the tear pattern. They weren't teeth. They were hands, with five fingers, proper size for a man, fully spread." She indicated this by raising her right hand and spreading all her fingers. "And each finger was topped by a claw, about the right size for a large, predatorial cat."

Akane looked up in surprise, her mouth falling open slightly. Then she realized how this news would affect Sango and she felt almost pitying. "Then… the murderer is most likely a cat-demon of some kind, probably a shapeshifter. When they're in their normal form, they have five fingers and retractable claws." She sighed. "Sango's not going to like that this is pointing towards a demon. I think she kind of wanted it to be a human. She's getting so tired of it being someone who's Registered. It's starting to look more like the list of known demons is a felony chart rather than a recording system."

Rukia nodded understandingly. She was a little sorry that the evidence was pointing that way herself. "The thing is, it may be a shapeshifter, or some other animal-like demon, but the evidence hasn't ruled out human involvement. After all, Hilde was killed by another manner entirely. It could still very easily be a human holding that scalpel, Akane. If so, then it could have been a summoned demon and not one whose been Registered," she shrugged, out of suggestions.

Taking the folder from Rukia, Akane began to flip lazily through it, shuddering at the pictures and sketches. "Have we recovered all the organs? Anything missing?"

"As far as Duo's concerned, we're not going to find anything. His wounds were ones common with feeding. They've probably been ingested. However, there was very little done to his muscle structure. There's some defensive wounds, and judging that the bones weren't picked clean for muscle, I'd say you're looking at a species which eats human organs rather than meat. We're still trying to find DNA in the wounds on Duo. We've sent samples to the lab to be analyzed. Unfortunately, human technology hasn't been able to decode the demon genome yet, so the best we can hope to get is a bit of human DNA, gender, and maybe ethnicity. Not that it'll help us if it comes up Japanese," she joked. Akane didn't laugh and she sighed. "I've asked Urahara repeatedly if he could design _us_ a way to determine the DNA of various demons, but he just keeps literally waving it away and promising me 'later'. I think Sango's distracting him."

Pursing her lips, Akane closed the folder, letting the hand holding it fall limply in her lap. "Sango's been doing nothing of the sort, and you know it. That claim would have worked when we were in high school and she went down there to help him out and get help with her science and math homework, but now she's far too busy in university. She's not doing anything at all to distract him."

Rukia smiled a little secretively, her blue eyes almost distant. "That's because you haven't lived long enough to be able to know how men think yet. Just her being in the building is a distraction."

Rolling her eyes, Akane thumbed once more through the folder. "What about Hilde?"

"Ah, Hilde. She's another matter entirely. With all the other ones, it was typically things which were considered edible which we weren't able to locate, like the liver, and of course, the heart was also missing. The same goes for Hilde. However, something's missing on her which wasn't on the others."

When Rukia told Akane what was missing, Akane didn't believe her. Rukia was forced to show her the body, and only then did Akane believe it.

After that, the rest of heir meeting was brief. Rukia told Akane that there was no sign of drugging, but that Hilde did have some defensive wounds: bruises and contusions. There was no chance of getting DNA from these wounds, but Akane was relieved to hear that Hilde hadn't laid down and died. She knew that Sango, and more importantly, Fuu, would also be glad to hear this.

As far as they could tell, Hilde had been cornered in the bedroom. From the blood splatter on the wall, she had been jumped after hiding her daughter in the closet, before she had gotten to the bedroom door and locked it. She was wrestled to the bed and was knocked out by a swift blow to the temple with something large and heavy. According to what Ferio had found at the crime scene, it was the lamp on her night stand. The lab had found Hilde's blood on it, though again, no fingerprints.

Duo had been right behind Hilde, trying to stop the main suspect from attacking his wife. He was jumped from behind, his throat slashed. When he landed on the bed, the second attacker turned him over, and proceeded to eat him.

Akane, gulping down bile as she stood in the mortuary, said, "Well, this probably confirms one thing. Sango and Miroku suspected that there was more than one person. They didn't think that one attacker could force someone down, dissect them, and still have time to clean up. This definitely adds credibility to their theory." She spotted a small jar off to the side and nodded to it, going over to see it. "What's that?"

Pulling the sheet over Hilde's body, Rukia answered automatically. "Maggots."

Akane decided that maybe she didn't want to see it.

"How's their kid? I hear that she survived."

"Last I heard she still hadn't left Sesshomaru's side. She's in bed still, and he's spending time by her. So really, I suppose he hasn't left her side, as far as I know. She's not allowed having any rich foods, and he's been giving her primarily water. Fuu and Ferio want her to see the doctor, but… well, you know how kids are. The last thing Rin wants to do is to go and see the doctor."

Rukia nodded. "That folder's for Ferio and Kakashi to see. Mind giving it to them? You'll see them before we do, no doubt."

"I can."

She paused. "Akane? Tell Kakashi something else. Tell him that if the coalition between all these different groups and psyche's don't find this guy… these guys soon, then I won't be able to keep Ichigo in check, and my husband will search for this man."

Something about what she said made Akane's skin feel colder. Blue eyes met blue eyes as Akane gazed questioningly at the smaller, older girl. Rukia's voice was terse. "I'll tell you something no one else knows, Akane. There are varying levels of demons in this world. There are ones on the planes, either too weak to join in the world, or too powerful to care about weak human races; there are the ones here, who live in this world because nature dictates that they have to, and then there are the ones who are so strong they can surpass time and remain here because they are bound to a specific place. These kinds of demons are ridiculously strong, and they never age."

Akane gulped. "Are you trying to tell me that your husband is a demon so strong his powers confine him to the IBSP?" she asked, a bit hoarsely.

Rukia's voice turned strangely soft. "I'm telling you that I was."

"Was?"

A tremor ran through her as she recalled the memory. "When I mean demons, I don't mean a werewolf or a vampire, Akane. I mean demons, like the kinds in the old myths. The ones so strong they were worshipped as gods. I was one of them, once. Then I was sent back to the planes. People thought they banished me. They thought they killed me. All they did was set me free, because a once-banished demon can be returned to life. They can be summoned back; I don't know how. I've heard it differs demon by demon. When that happens, they are given a flesh and blood body, and that will allow them to wander freely in the world; without rules or restrictions."

She looked confused. "But then… why tell me about Ichi…"

"Because," Rukia replied, her blue eyes startling emotionless. "Someone had to bring me back. Who else is strong enough to summon me from another plane?"

* * *

"I have a bad feeling about this…" Ranma grumbled as he followed Sango up the stairs to the Fanel residence. Sango merely shot him an icy cold look, warning him that saying such things often had dire consequences. He sighed, and pressed the matter. "Look, we both know that we can both take care of ourselves. I'm more worried about interviewing a guy when the empathy and the cute one are out of commission…" This time Sango turned on him with a full blown glare. He stammered and jumped back a step, feeling the air around Sango jump up a few degrees. "No… not that you're not cute, too, ah, Sango…. shit, just, don't tell Akane that I said that."

"That you insulted me or that you think she's cute?" she demanded, pressing the doorbell.

Ranma looked around nervously, making sure no one could hear him before he replied 'both'. The poor boy was rather jumpy when it came to admitting his feelings. He looked as if he kept expecting someone with a video camera to jump out and cheer that Saotome Ranma actually did have an interest in girls despite the macho, chauvinistic attitude he often adopted… especially around Akane.

"I won't say anything if you won't," Sango promised him. They waited in silence for someone to answer the door.

After a moment or two, Ranma suggested that perhaps no one was home. This was followed by a crash somewhere within the house, causing both of the agents to jump. After glancing at each other, Sango pulled out her gun and got into attack position, and Ranma readied to kick down the door… only to fall flat on his face when the door suddenly opened.

"Sorry I took… what?" The man answering the door, opening it only a smidgen, found a man groaning on the pavement and a girl with a gun sighted directly on his forehead. He looked petrified, and angry, and then it a matter of micro-seconds he smiled. "You must be from the IBSP. Please, come on in."

He opened the door all the way, inviting them in. Ranma picked himself off the ground and looked around. They had a nice, simple place. He stopped when he saw a girl about the age of eleven sitting on the couch, swinging her legs. Her feet weren't long enough to touch the ground yet. What shocked him was that the girl had pink hair: _bright_, cotton-candy pink hair.

Sango was busy telling Van they were sorry for dropping in on him unexpectedly when the girl with the pink hair noticed her. As soon as she saw Sango, she leapt off the couch, jumping over to where Sango stood. She stared up at the older girl, wide-eyed. When Sango stared back, she noticed the girl's eyes were blue, the color of the ocean on a sunny day, but her teeth were a little too predatorial, and her ears a little too pointed. She was, like Sango, a halfbreed.

The girl's whole nose moved as she sniffed Sango. She suddenly seemed to explode. She spun and jumped on Van, licking his cheek and laughing. Out of nowhere, a fluffy orange and black stripped tail appeared from under her yellow sundress. "Van-sama! She's just like me! She's just _like_ me! She's a tiger, too!"

Ranma looked intrigued and Sango blushed. She had half-expected Miroku to have told Ranma all about Sango's secret. She'd been wrong. Sango could admit it. Sango wasn't _ashamed_ of her heritage, but she had to hide it from normal humans. Despite working in the IBSP, Ranma was still one hundred percent human. Besides, she'd become accustomed to not revealing all of her aces at once. She had gotten good at hiding who she was, what she was, and what she could… but apparently not from some twelve year old twerp.

"Sango?" Ranma inquired, looking at her curiously.

She decided to ignore it for now. If he couldn't figure it out, then she'd tell him later. Sango turned her attentions to Van. "Our files didn't mention you and Miss Kanzaki had a child."

Van blushed, stroking the little kitten's head. She purred in response. "She's not ours. Not biologically, anyway," he corrected when she frowned at him. He merely smiled back in response; it was a good, honest smile. Not like the rather charming, crooked, sly smile of a certain pervert Sango knew. "We adopted her. Merle found us. She followed us home. She followed me home, really. When we couldn't find her real family, we convinced the IBSP to let us adopt her. No human institution would take her. Merle still has trouble controlling her powers."

"Obviously." Sango almost chuckled at the sight of that long tail flickering back and forth. Van moved her so she could sit on his back, where she was more than content to sit and stare at Sango, occasionally giggling. "Don't worry," Sango told Merle. "You'll control most of them eventually. I have to talk to Mr. Fanel. Is that okay with you?" Most demons were usually territorial; it wouldn't hurt to ask permission to steal her father-figure for an hour or two.

Merle nodded and then looked at Ranma. "Does he have to talk to? Can I play with him?"

Without thinking, Sango said yes. She could question Mr. Fanel herself. When Merle squealed with delight and jumped on Ranma, he yelped. Sango had forgotten he was afraid of cats.

"Don't worry," she promised him, whispering in his ear. "You'll be fine. Van here's fully human, so Merle's used to dealing with a weaker species. Why don't you two go outside and play?"

Ranma's frowned deepened. "Sango, are you trying to tell me that this fluff ball can turn into a cat?" She nodded. For a moment Ranma froze, looking at the girl who clung to him, and then he laughed. "I'll believe that when I see it! Hah! People turning into cats! Seriously, Sango! What am I supposed to do with an eleven year old girl? Play Barbies?"

Merle, who of course could hear everything, whispered or not, clambered up to Ranma's back, forcing him to piggy-back her. "I'm eleven, not six. I'm too old for Barbies."

He rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine. How about I take her into the back yard and teach her to throw me? How does that sound?"

Apparently he had been trying to be funny. Merle, however, thought this was a superb idea. She cheered and laughed and did all the approving, adorable things adorable children were supposed to do. Van had no objections; on the contrary, his eyes twinkled when he agreed, watching Merle's happiness.

Van Fanel was a man almost entering his thirties. He was youthful, his hair dark auburn and full, hanging into his eyes, which were brown. His skin was tanned, his smile kind. There was an energy about him, in the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled and the gestures he made with his hands, which wouldn't have been there with other men who had the same thoughtful, quiet demeanor as Van did. They were signs of exercise and control, and the rejuvenation that seemed to be around him from some external force Sango couldn't understand. He reminded her of a storybook hero, the kind who had never fully grown up and still retained some boyish, fun-loving attitude.

He reminded her a little of Miroku, with his dinosaur-printed sheets.

As Ranma and Merle went out into the backyard, Sango and Van settled in the living room, sitting next to each other on the couch. Sango glanced around briefly, getting comfortable in the room. It had some very serious masculine undertones, from the dark color of the furniture and straight lines in the room, yet anything one thought typically "masculine", like a large television, magazines, or leather couches, were absent. She mentally approved.

Pulling out her notebook, Sango searched for her pen. "How long has your wife been missing, sir, since the last time you actually saw her?"

"Three days," Van replied, thinking it over. He mulled over it again, wanting to be precise. "Yes. Three days, this time."

Sango's ear perked up at his last words. She put on a vaguely puzzled expression, but behind it she was deep in collaboration, her eyes stuck on Van's face to gauge his reactions. Since she'd entered the house, deep down she had wondered why Van didn't seem more distraught. Yes, he'd looked tired, but that could just be because he was taking care of a hyperactive cat-girl all by himself. Sango had been on missing people cases before, and Van showed none of the signs of a normally distraught husband. At best, she'd peg his emotions at no more than worry.

"What do you mean 'this time'?"

"Hitomi's… she's special. It's part of why I love her. She's a Seer, and she sees people who need help. She'll take off and help them, sometimes. You see, she works here, out of the house. That way, she doesn't have to explain taking off to the boss or anything. At most, she's been gone for a week."

"But you didn't file a missing person's report for those instances. Why? What makes this time so different?"

Van turned and faced the window, watching Ranma and Merle play outside. His gaze softened a little. "It's because of Merle, you see," he explained, sounding more than a little wistful. "Hitomi loves Merle. No matter what, Hitomi always makes sure that Merle will be taken care of before she goes out. She'll phone the school and tell them that she won't be there to pick Merle up, and then call me at work and tell me the same. Sometimes she'll tell me where she's going, but she likes her confidentiality. Sometimes, Hitomi will make Merle a snack before she leaves. Hitomi says I'm too lenient and give Merle way too many sweets."

Van's fond smile was brief, and his expression soon lapsed into something resembling loneliness. "This time, Miss Tora, there was nothing. She simply vanished."

Sango was beginning to wish Miroku was there. His empathy would help him to really _connect_ with Van. Sango comprehended only a fraction of what the man was feeling, but even that was enough to make her feel as if she stood upon a precipice, hope behind her and only emptiness in front of her, waiting to swallow her whole. It also made her feel, perhaps most importantly of all, a little jealous. Quietly, she set down her pen and inquired, "Are you worried about your wife?"

Van didn't answer immediately. His gaze never left Merle, watching her throw Ranma to the ground. She danced and clapped about, demanding her get back up so she could try it again. "I'm worried about _her_," he finally replied. "Hitomi… like I said. She's special. I feel the need to be there to take care of her. We used to go to school together. That's always been the way it's been. But she's also one of the most resilient people I have ever met. She can take care of herself, even if she pushes herself too far or neglects to eat. The person I'm most worried about is Merle. Merle's adopted. She's already lost her family once. I worry what will happen if she loses Hitomi, too."

Sango reached over and took one of his hands. "Don't worry, Mr. Fanel. We'll find Hitomi."

He squeezed her hand. "I know you will, Miss Tora. I just hope you do before harm befalls her."

"Can you think of anyone of anything, _anyone_, that might make Hitomi leave so suddenly?"

He shook his head and then abruptly stopped, as if he had suddenly had an epiphany. "This may sound silly, but the only thing I can think of is that something may have happened to her cousin."

Sango felt like someone had just walked over her grave. "Cousin?"

"Yes. Eve. Those two were like sisters." He smiled again, shaking his head, and he slowly rose from the couch to get a picture from the mantle. "Here."

Sango had seen it before. Miroku had taken it from Ms. Katsayumi. Hard to believe that it had been just the other day. The picture was now tapped to the board in Miroku's room, the white board which slowly began to fill up with notes as the days wore on. Her expression darkened and she rose from the couch, too. "I think we need to have a much more serious conversation, Mr. Fanel."

* * *

As Akane road the elevator back up to the residency level, her cell phone went off. She answered it quickly, as she saw it was coming from Sango. "How's it going? Any clues yet?"

"Not really. I hate to admit it, Akane, but I think we need Miroku's help on this one. Every bone in my body is telling me that she's next, and we have to find her before it's too late. Mr. Fanel's a nice guy. A little reserved, but pleasant. I don't want to have to break the news to him, Akane. Worse, I know Miroku would be the one to volunteer to do it, and he's done more than enough already. Is he up yet?"

"I don't know. I'm in the elevator right now."

"Akane!" Sango scolded over the phone. "You weren't supposed to leave Miroku's side! What happens if he… if he…" Akane wondered at the way Sango stammered over her theoretical question, but decided to tease Sango about it later. "What happens if he has another vision and no one's there and he dies on us, or goes into a coma? What the hell…"

She sighed. "Kakashi called me, Sango. I was ordered to go down and talk to Rukia and Ichigo. I'm on my way back up right now. We gave Miroku some pretty powerful drugs. I don't think that he's going to wake up anytime soon. Still, Miroku hasn't any visions about Hitomi yet, as he?"

"Well… well no, I don't think so."

"Good," Akane said cheerfully. "Haven't you noticed, Sango? His visions come in threes. Two are warnings. The third one is always the most intense, and when that one comes, it's too late. He experiences it at the same time that the victim does. Miroku's like a clock. We have two visions until they're dead, Sango. As Miroku hasn't had one for Hitomi yet, I don't think it's vital that we wake up Miroku right now. Let him sleep."

"His visions also don't happen regularly! He could be having one right now and have one two hours from now, and one in another two hours, and it would be too late! Stop by the hospital level, Akane. Pick up the anti… anti-whatever the hell we gave him. I'm leaving Ranma here to protect Merle and Mr. Fanel in case these guys want one of them, too. I'll be right over. I want Miroku to be awake by then."

Without another word or a goodbye, Sango hung up her phone. Akane closed her cell, sighing. She disliked it when Sango wouldn't take her advice, but Sango was the senior in their unit. She had been raised and trained to do this job. All Akane was there for was for help, it seemed like. Still, she disliked being ordered about, and while Sango did have a point about Miroku's visions, she worried more about the psychological affects, and if Miroku would have had enough sleep to let him function normally. With Sango's abrasive attitudes, just how long would it take Miroku to start feeling more like a tool than a partner, to be woken up and debriefed only when it was handy to Sango?

Several floors above Akane, Miroku was still fast asleep. With his pale, unhealthy-looking skin, and the drugged stillness of his body, he almost looked dead. The only sign of life was the slow, shallow rise and fall of his chest. Thanks to the heavy medication, there was no visible sign when the psychic warning came. Miroku didn't move so much as a muscle at it. His blood rate automatically shot up, and sweat appeared on his body in tiny, mist-like droplets. When it came, there was no physical outlet for his pain. He screamed inside his own head.

And no one heard him.


	20. The Museum

AN: I can't recall if I said this or not before, but I love you guys. Reviews will now be answered via the handy 'reply' button, save for people without an account, which will be on the account page. Also, I do not own Van or Hitomi, or Merle. They are the property of their own creators. I am just borrowing them for my own insanity. As is _de Kinderstod_, a demon from season two of Bufy: the Vampire Slayer, no doubt copyrighted to Joss Whedon of all people. The museum they visit in this chapter is based upon the Royal Ontario Museum. If I could not live in a tree, I would want to live there. Also, this story has proudly been nominated for 'Best Crossover' from the Inuyasha FanFiction Guild. :bows: Thank you to Starzki and Georgeosity Made Flesh. :stupid, dumb grin: Aw, I feel all warm and cuddly now. Bring on the fluff! And the drama! And the ill-timed comedy!

Chapter Twenty: The Museum

Miroku's mind was stirring, and he hated it. He didn't want to wake up. He was exhausted, and worse, he was frightened of waking up.

When Miroku used his powers, he could feel things. His power was a tactile one, normally. When he felt something which belonged to someone, he had to _touch_ it; when he actually touched people, he could feel the warmth they gave off the way reptiles felt the power of the sun. It soaked into his skin, and he could feel the subtle changes in it. He felt more than just heat; he felt aura, or chi, or whatever you may like to call it.

What he was feeling as he woke up, however, was new. It wasn't all tactile. His eyes were closed, his hair laying flat against his forehead and his breathing peaceful, yet he was aware of Akane in the room. He couldn't see her, but he could pick up on colors of anxiety and nervousness, even a twinge of fear. He could hear her tapping her leg against the base of the desk chair as she sat by him, waiting. He wondered what she was waiting for when the door opened and he received his answer.

His world went red when the light from the hallway struck his face, before the door closed again, and his world went black as his mind slowly cleared. Nothing prepared him for the presence that assaulted his senses. He had never felt something so completely as this. It struck him repeatedly, each breath and glance and subtle change more forceful than the last. His breath caught in his throat and his heart starting beating faster than ever. Such a dominating presence! He surrendered himself to it, letting wave and wave of it cascade over himself, warming him all the way to his bones. He relaxed in it, basking in it, and he drew it back again to himself as each wave left him. God, it even smelled good, like sunshine one minute and flowers the next. Yes, sunshine. Miroku knew, without a doubt now, that sunshine had a smell. She was it. He surrounded himself in the luxury of that irreplaceable presence, wishing he could stop time until he could know every change and detail of it by instinct and texture alone.

That would truly be heaven.

Sango's eyes drifted away from Miroku as he slept in his bed. His eyes weren't shifting. He wasn't in REM. Sango looked at her partner questioningly. Akane nodded, pursing her lips and gesturing to the medicine bottle on the table.

"I did it, Sango. I don't like it, but I did it."

The strange chill in her voice made Sango feel guilty. Miroku caught the feeling as her body and mind emitted it and held it close to his heart, treasuring it and caressing it. Sango wished that she could tell Akane that she agreed with her; Miroku needed rest. She wished that she could let him sleep, but she needed his help. How strange that thought became easier to admit each time it ran across her mind!

Sango couldn't find Hitomi Fanel by herself. She needed Miroku's talent to find her. So, Sango, having been raised to deal with situations like this, slammed a mask on her face and became the bitch she could be when taking charge of the situation. It pained her that Akane couldn't see through it. They'd been best friends for how long? Shouldn't Akane be able to see how much it pained Sango to have to press Miroku further? It was eating her up inside, and no one seemed to notice!

He caught that feeling too, the feelings of sadness that drifted across the room. Miroku folded them up and slipped them somewhere where it couldn't be lost, whispering soothing words to them and trying to soften their deadly blows.

"He's not awake yet," she said, looking at Miroku.

Akane shrugged. "I gave him the proper dosage. This is probably a more natural sleep. The drug was just supposed to counter-balance the sleeping drugs we gave him earlier. They don't do anything against exhaustion, Sango."

Sango studied him again, and nodded to Akane. "I'll wake him up. Go and get ready yourself." She tossed her friend the keys to the car. "It's downstairs waiting."

A little wounded at the brush off, Akane took the keys and stood up. She paused when her hand was on the door handle, and she turned to Sango wickedly. "Don't forget your promise, Sango. You promised him a kiss if he slept. Don't think that you lost that agreement just because the famous Tora Sango decided that he should wake up. He slept, and he did it because you promised him a kiss. I wouldn't suggest turning him into an enemy, Sango."

Leaving Sango and Miroku alone, Sango wasn't sure what to feel about that promise. First came the anger, so intense Miroku almost woke up from it. Then came the wounded sadness, ashamed that her friend thought so low of her. She wasn't going to try and weasel out of that arrangement, though a part of her wanted to. Her gaze fell on Miroku. The goosebumps on Miroku's flesh disappeared as she approached him; the heat coming off of her was like a fire. The old mattress creaked as she sat down next to him, her hand so close to his that he could almost feel it.

She studied his face, the way his hair seemed tangled yet somehow appealing, the way his lips were parted, his breath quiet. Even concentrating on it, she couldn't hear it. It was like he had one foot in the ghost-world already. She reached out, brushing his hair away from his face gently, letting the silky material slide through her fingers. Miroku mentally moaned in pleasure as her soft touch continued down his face, running over the curve of his eyebrow, over his cheekbone, and finally, almost painfully, over his chapped and dry lips, before they fell away completely.

He prayed in every way, to every god, he could think of. Let her lean over and kiss him! No woman touched a man in such a way unless she meant to do so! He begged and pleaded for it, for this one simple joy, but no god answered him. Instead, Sango called out his name gently, her sturdy hand taking his shoulder. Not even his hand. She couldn't even bring herself to take his _hand_.

"Miroku, wake up."

"Sango…"

She froze when she heard her name. Never before had she heard her name sound like something like… like that. It was this strange hybrid, like a combination of a lover's sweet moan, and the understanding tone of a friend. Never had Sango heard such desire and understanding mingled before. It was half way between friend and… and… and something _more_.

His blue eyes fluttered open. They seemed deeper than usual, as if Sango could drown in them, lose herself in them; as if they went all the way to his mind. She pulled herself away from his face, but she could continue feeling his gaze on her face. She lowered her head, blushing, letting the curve of her ponytail hide her face.

His fingertips touched her chin, drawing her face back towards hers. Her blush deepened. Miroku didn't say anything; he didn't have to. Sango had never seen anything like it before. He was wide awake, no sign of confusion or sleeplessness anywhere. Instead, what she found was nothing but comprehension, acceptance, and forgiveness. Akane hadn't seen through her mask, but Miroku could, even without looking at her. He knew that she was doing this because she had to, and that she really did feel bad for it. He knew that it was all just an act.

Normally, that would have scared her. Sango didn't want to be predictable; she didn't want to have someone know her so intimately. But this… at the moment, this was exactly what she had been looking for. God, she had needed this. The happiness, the pleasure and the relief rolling off of her Miroku treasured most of all. This was all because of him. This was what she felt because of _him_.

Yet the feeling was slowly slipping away. He felt it go with regret. He could get used to knowing exactly what Sango was feeling. He watched as her eyes began to glisten, as if she were going to start crying. He slowly sat up in bed, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close, kissing her cheek. She allowed herself to be held, the touch more comforting to Miroku than intimate. Sango felt more like a teddy bear than she did a lover.

He leaned back against his headboard, Sango with him. She picked her feet off of the ground and lay on the bed with him, one arm trapped under her and the other on Miroku for stability.

"You don't have to kiss me," he told her. Sango wasn't sure if she should be happy or disappointed. His lips brushed her hair, and she closed her eyes, enjoying the heat of his breath on her skin. "I'll take it later, when you're willing to give it, Sango. A real kiss, this time. After all this is done and I can spend the rest of the summer flirting with you and reading my books."

She shivered, but not with delight. There were such promises there: a quiet summer romance, where he wanted nothing else but her and his precious books. There was a certain amount of monogamy in that statement, too. But more than that, there was the promise that he was going to live. Sango wrenched her eyes shut. How could he always do that? How could he joke and tease her about the future when both of them knew there was a very slim chance of a future unless he could figure out how to control what he was seeing?

"Di… did you have a vision?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. He didn't answer her; instead he nodded. Sango's hand tightened around him when she felt his chin brush her hair. He was messing up her ponytail, but she didn't care. "Oh, Miroku…" She paused, soothing the tremble out of her voice before she continued. "Wh… what happened in it, Miroku?"

There was a long pause before he answered her. "Nothing happened in it. It was the scariest thing I've ever experienced. Everything was darkness, yet there were shifting colors in the world. They were frightening, and I don't know why. But more than anything, I could feel emotions. Loneliness. Sango, take the loneliest moment of your life and multiply it over three fold. Then, suddenly, there was light everywhere… and I saw him… and… then…."

He swallowed. It was difficult. He suddenly pushed her away and ran to the washroom. Sango waited on the bed, wincing when she heard him vomit.

Miroku was certain that she thought he was a wussy. He was being physically ill all because of a vision. It hadn't even been gory or physically painful. It was the mentality of that all. Miroku had recognized the demon in his vision. He had seen the type before. Most of the time, when he touched something of Ferio's, something the older gentleman had owned for a long time, he saw this type of demon.

He looked at himself in the mirror: the bags under his eyes, the unhealthy pallor of his skin. He looked like the waking dead, and he felt like it. Blood speckled around his mouth. He scrubbed his face and hands as hard as he could. Miroku didn't want Sango to pick up on it. It was his problem; not hers. He couldn't burden her with anything else.

After he freshened up, practically drinking the mouth wash to rid the vile taste from his mouth, he took a book down from the bookcase. He flipped through it and passed it to Sango. Miroku leaned against his desk for support as she read it.

She winced at the picture. "He kind of looks like…"

"Freddy Kreuger. I know. This demon was the inspiration for the _Nightmare _series." He pointed to the picture of _De Kinderstod_. "They harvest eyes. That's what the claws are for. That's the last thing I saw."

Sango stared at it a moment longer and shuddered. He noticed that she swallowed hard. "Is there anyway to track this thing?" Miroku shook his head. "There was nothing else? You didn't see anything to make you think that this…" He shook his head again and her argument fell away. Sango frowned, closing the book. "Miroku, short of transforming and stalking her scent down as a tiger, I don't know how to find Hitomi Fanel. I… I need your help."

He reached out, his deft fingers gently fluttering over her face. His blue eyes were soft. Sango felt… strange. Just plain strange. She stared at him, and she felt herself blushing again. Why wasn't he saying anything? This silence was unnerving. It made her heart start pounding in her chest. Her mouth felt dry. She couldn't take her eyes away from him. Isn't this what people did when they kissed? Did he want her to kiss him? Did he want to kiss her?

Damn it, why wasn't he saying anything?

"Sango…" This time her name was full of helplessness. He sighed, letting his hand fall away. Miroku motioned for her to follow him as he staggered back into the bathroom. "I'll need you to fill me in if I'm to help."

"But, if this is a vision for someone else," she stammered, following him.

Miroku shrugged. "Then it is, and there's nothing I can do to help you with it, Sango. There aren't any clues. All I can tell you is that it smelled musty, and a little bit like chlorine. It could just have easily been a janitor's closet as it could have been a basement by a pool. There were grey bricks, and there was a demon. That's it."

Sango sighed again. Miroku put down his toothbrush to wrap his arms around her. Sango hugged him back before thinking about it. Her head came up just under his chin, letting him rest his cheek against her head and nuzzle her hair. Sango closed her eyes and relaxed, taking comfort in the fact that he was still alive enough to hold her.

"You can't save everybody. Infamous Tora Sango or not, love, you can't save everybody."

"That's twice you called me that," she mumbled.

"What?"

"That's twice you called me love."

"Oh… I hadn't noticed."

That was that. She didn't ask him to stop, and he didn't offer to. Sango looked at the bathroom mirror, where their reflections stood. She had to admit that Mrs. Katsayumi had a point. They did look good together. Sango pulled back, shaking such thoughts away. Besides the fact that he was a shameless flirt, he seemed to have very little respect for monogamy, he was fully human and he was her partner. They were business associates. Plain and simple.

"Let me fill you in on Mr. Fanel…"

* * *

Van and Miroku instantly took a liking to one another, right from the moment where they shook hands. Akane went straight to relieving Ranma so the martial artist could take a break from watching Merle. Van went straight to business with Miroku. Maybe it was the fact that they were both males. Maybe it was Miroku's empathy. Maybe it was the fact that Miroku was once again fashionably attired, oozing charm, appeal, and grace with each gesture. Whatever the reason, the second thing out of Van's mouth after hello was: 

"What do you need to see?"

Pulling his glasses from the pocket of his blazer, he slipped them on his face, laying them low on his nose so that he could still see things far away. "I understand that she works from home. I would like to see her office. No doubt she spends a lot of time there. The room should be filled with personal artifacts, and more importantly, things Hitomi has touched repeatedly, leaving a stronger psychic imprint."

Van led them upstairs. Sango reached out and caught Miroku's wrist, regretting her earlier decision. She decided to give Miroku another chance to back out. "Are you sure that you're up to doing this?"

Miroku grinned and slipped his hand out of hers. "Of course I am, Sango. If I couldn't save Eve, the least thing I could do would be to help her cousin." His grin disappeared as he remembered Eve's death, and his voice deepened. "I'm not going to let another member of her family die, Sango."

Sango sighed, letting him go. Van and Miroku chatted amicably. Following them, she could see her reflection in the mirror. Something seemed off. She wore a crisp, ironed brown pants suit, a pale blue blouse underneath. Her hair was in her normal ponytail. She could feel her holster as it rubbed against the shoulder. Nothing seemed out of place. Even her pink eye shadow was in the same place it had been that morning. Then she realized that she actually looked worried. Sango corrected it immediately, her face becoming impassive.

It held for all of a moment, until she looked at Miroku. He seemed to be aware of her eyes on him and he glanced at her over his shoulder, his earrings reflecting back the light and he smiled at her wistfully. She smiled back in response, shaking her head. 'Pirate.' Still, she had to admit that even if he looked like a pirate, with his glasses on, he looked like a rather studious one.

Hitomi's office was neat and tidy. Miroku, knowing how much work he did as a student and how notes and books found their ways mysteriously into pockets, laundry hampers, the desk table top, under the key board, and under the bed, could scarcely believe that someone worked in the office. The walls were pale blue, and completely bare. There were no photos nailed to it, nor inspirational hangings. There were, however, framed photos. They lined the desk and the corners of the bookcase. The oak desk hosted a computer, and the pencils and papers were stacked neatly. As he approached the desk, he saw that everything was spaced evenly apart. A sharpened pencil and a pen lay on the desk, both exactly in the middle between the desk's edge and the edge of the paper-holder.

A childish pet rock with cat ears sat on the papers. Miroku pointed to it and Van smiled.

"A birthday gift from Merle."

Miroku's mind was changing. His first impression of the room was that there would not be enough psychic energy left for him to determine anything. If anything, it was just the opposite: pictures, pet rocks, and organization. If there was something out of place in this room, he would find it.

He started at the bookcase, in the corner nearest the door. Holding out his right hand, he slowly began to let his fingertips touch everything: the bookcase, the edges of the books lining it, the corner of the picture frames… He could feel the energy in the room starting to vibrate and he closed his eyes, listening to it.

Sango felt a tingle go up her spine. She watched Miroku carefully, jumping when Van suddenly leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"Have you ever seen him do this before?"

"No, never," Sango replied, her gaze never leaving Miroku.

Van pursed his lips. His brown eyes flickered with doubt. "Then how do you know he's real? How do you know that he'll find anything?"

Sango shrugged. "I… I trust him."

Unaware of the conversation, Miroku continued walking. Most of the books on the top shelf were for reference, stacked in order of height. His fingertips tingled when he brushed the thesaurus and the dictionary. She had used those often, but all he got were feelings of frustration and confusion. Understandable if she had grabbed them while searching for the right word. There was nothing abnormal there.

He didn't get a hint of anything until he brushed a photograph the second row down, on eye level. For the first time in his life, he got something other than a faint feeling or emotion. He actually _saw_ something.

It was Van, his brown hair moving in the wind. His eyes seemed sad and scared, the way they had when Miroku had met him. He was shirtless, clad only in a pair of khakis. His broad shoulders were revealed as his back was to him. Slowly, he looked away, and from his shoulders spread gorgeous white wings. They were twice the height of Van and immeasurably longer. Feelings of relief and of devotion poured into Van. When the man turned back, this time he looked just as relieved as the vision suggested, and he smiled. It was a deep, warm smile. It reminded Miroku of his father's smile. It reminded him of Ferio's smile when he looked at Fuu. It was the smile of someone who was devotedly, hopelessly on love.

His vision cleared and he opened his eyes. A picture of Van and Hitomi on their wedding day stood on the bookshelf, his fingers still resting lightly against the silver frame. Miroku turned back to Van, where he stood unobtrusively in the doorway with Sango.

"You're not fully human. You have wings, like an angel."

First came the shock; then it turned into some mixture of fear and astonishment Sango's face, in contrary, remained neutral, withholding her judgments. Van stammered for words. Finally, he nodded and took a deep breath. "I'm… I'm… well, never mind what I am. It's a long story. But yes, I have wings."

Sango shook her head. This time, it was her turn to be shocked. She turned to Van, perplexed. "But… there's nothing demonic about you! If there is, I can't pick up on it!"

His smile was kind. "Don't worry, Miss Tora. It's not your fault that you couldn't pick up on it. I'm hardly your average demon."

Despite his assurances, Sango remained worried. If she couldn't even tell the difference between someone who was completely human and a demon, what good were her senses? Obviously they could be fooled, and Sango did not enjoy being fooled. She concentrated instead on Miroku. Watching him work gave her the chills, as if ghostly presences filled the room. It was eerie and creepy, and Sango rather like it.

A few other things in the room gave off faint pictures and feelings: the pet rock, for instance, gave Miroku flashes of Merle. But the computer gave off the most potent images of all. Miroku could feel the energy around it as he approached the computer. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, as if it were an electrical current.

His hand drifted over the keyboard. The sudden rush of energy he got was so potent, it didn't even require physical touch. He felt like something struck him. He opened his eyes to orient himself. He stood to the side of the computer, watching a young woman type away on the computer screen. Her adept hands typed away relentless, her eyes only now and again drifting down from the keyboard to check the position of her fingers. She seemed a few years younger than Van Fanel, perhaps three years or so. Her hair, cut into much the same haircut as Van's actually, was flat and brown, laying motionless against her head. There was something about her face, the angle of her chin and cheekbones that reminded him of a pixie.

What was odder was that she reminded him of Eve. For being cousins, their relation was immediate. Eve's hair had been darker, and longer. Eve had been by far a bit curvier. Miroku wasn't afraid to admit that Hitomi Kanzaki had the build of a stick—though she did have to appear some incredibly long legs! No, what reminded him of Eve was the expression on her face, the concentrated look as she typed away ceaselessly, and the way she stuck the tongue out of her mouth whenever she became confused. Eve had done that same thing; she had probably picked it up from Hitomi.

And then there were the eyes! Miroku, personally, had never paid much attention to eyes before. More than anything, though, he found that he had liked Sango's eyes. He loved how they seemed to be able to swing from sunny brown to almost a shade of copper when she was feisty. But that had been before he had seen the eyes of Hitomi Kanzaki. They seemed to be almost too large for her face, and they weren't clear, like normal eyes. In normal people, the reflection of the monitor was visible as they sat in front of the computer. But nothing was reflected in Hitomi's eyes. They just went on and on, endlessly. They were a sea of green. Even in the world of visions, Miroku could almost imagine that she could see him as he peered at her.

Then she turned to look his way as the phone began to ring. Not just at him; she lifted her head slowly, her gaze starting at his belt and then raising to his face. She looked directly into his eyes, and then, just for a moment, she smiled, and it was sad. Her hand reached through him, grasping the phone on the other side of his ghostly body. Hitomi picked up the phone.

"Fanel residence. Yes, hello." Her voice was full of warmth, but it was fake. "Merle?" At the mention of her adopted daughter, she suddenly seemed honestly frightened. "Sick? Of course! I'll be right there!" Hitomi shut the phone and then glanced at the day-by-day calendar. Miroku followed her gaze after she looked at him pointedly.

It was three days ago. The message on it read 'Field trip: Museum'.

Without warning, the vision left him. Miroku looked at the calendar on the desk. The date hadn't changed, as Hitomi hadn't been there to change it, and Van didn't touch her office. He was working rapidly to piece everything together.

Van and Sango, both of whom had been looking worried when Miroku had stood there, unblinkingly staring ahead, jumped out of their skin when he whirled on them. "Van! When was the last time Merle was ever sick?"

"Ah, well, never. Merle's never been sick since we adopted her. After all, she…"

"Someone called Hitomi and told her Merle was sick, on that day," he added, pointing to the calendar. "If she was at the museum at the time, then Hitomi would have gone straight there."

Van looked grim. "I'm going to go and get my things. One moment."

Sango nearly grabbed him as he walked by. Did Van actually think he was coming with them? Miroku grabbed her before she could pounce Van. He stared at her urgently; his grip was so tight it almost hurt. He was out of breath. "Sango! The visions! She's a Seer! Her eyes… the _kinderstod_… it's after _her_… these things are about _her_!"

Sango knew exactly what needed to be said. She peeled his hand off her arm and held it tightly in both of her smaller ones. "Don't worry, Miroku. We're going to rescue her. With you and your visions, and my tracking skills, we'll find her before any harm comes to her." He smiled at her gratefully, but she cursed herself. Sango wasn't normally one to be so optimistic. She was practical. What were the chances, honestly, of them finding Hitomi at the museum?

Van shut the door to the bedroom, startling them. He had changed into jeans and a black t-shirt for the warm weather. Sango wished she wasn't wearing her business suit anymore, especially if battle was about to ensue, but… She shook her head. "You're not coming with us." He looked crushed, and she sighed. "This is dangerous. You might be older, Mr. Fanel, but we've been trained to deal with these kinds of situations."

"Sango…" Miroku's voice was soft. She didn't realize she hadn't released his hand until he squeezed it. "Sango, his wife is missing. Let him come with us, please."

Merle jumped on Van from the end of the hallway. "Yay!" she squealed in delight. "Field trip! Field trip!"

Sango growled at them all, especially when Ranma and Akane also appeared, both of their faces grim and determined in preparation for battle. She shook her head. "This is a rescue mission, _not_ a field trip, damn it!"

* * *

"I repeat: this is not a field trip!" Sango grumbled to herself. Everyone else in Van's mini-van ignored her. 

The drive to the museum was a terse one. Nobody, except for perhaps Merle, could have expected blue-collared Van Fanel to drive so recklessly. He sped up for red lights and cut people off. More than just a few drivers flashed their middle fingers at Van as he drove by them. When they actually arrived at the Museum, people gave them very odd looks as Van, two martial artists, an eleven year old with vibrant pink hair, a handsome man looking like an extra for Night of the Living Dead, and a very unhappy looking Sango rushed out of the van, slamming the car doors behind them.

Van, despite rushing, managed to get them all under control as they walked into the Museum, so that they wouldn't be kicked out as soon as they walked into the building. As soon as he walked in, his eyes avoided the rounded, gilded ceiling with the mosaic pictures of the Zodiac, and settled immediately on the guards making sure that no one snuck into the Museum before they bought a ticket.

"Don't worry about it. I'll get us in," Van said. "Miroku, can you… you know… pick up on anything?"

Miroku, who was probably the only one besides Van not gazing in awe at the Museum's entrance ceiling, nodded. "I can try while you're in line waiting. I can't guarantee anything, with all of these other psyches here." As Van went to stand in line for entrance tickets, Miroku looked at his companions, almost disgustedly. "Haven't any of you been in the museum before?"

Sango gulped. "I forgot how impressive this place was… damn. Sometime, when I'm not a mission, I'm going to have to come back here."

Merle, distracted at the sound of Miroku's deep voice, sniffed around and began wandering. Sango never took her eyes away from the cat girl. Merle returned, disappointed. "I can't smell Hitomi _anywhere_," she whined. Akane comforted her by patting her shoulder.

"It's okay Merle," Sango promised, bending down to see the girl on eye level. "I can't find any trace of either. There are too many people."

Ranma scratched his head. "You know, with all these people, it's pretty hard to sneak someone in here. If there were parents on this field trip, you know, to help look after the kids," Merle nodded here to indicate that there was, "then someone could have posed as one and brought her in. Or someone who works here. We did figure it was someone smart. Smart people come from museums."

His comment almost made Akane laugh, but she managed to keep from laughing, or worse, slapping him. "Ranma has a point. It would be hard getting someone out. Little kids would be detrimental, too. With all the anti-stranger propaganda these days, it's very hard to smuggle someone away while kids are watching." She fondly ruffled Merle's hair. "Unless they had access to this place after hours when they could escort her out without getting caught... and then there's security measures, too. We're just glad they don't have metal detectors." She pointed up at the ceiling, gesturing to the hidden cameras and motion detectors. "Which means, if it's going to be a pain in the ass taking her out of here…"

"Chances are, she's still here," Sango finished, still down on one knee.

Miroku stared down at her, then past her, down at the floor. The museum had nice floors, too. Floors? Floor… floor… the basement!

"Sango," he called her. Sango didn't hear, due to the fact that he was hoarse. He knelt down and leaned close to her ear. His breath tickled her skin. It was warm, and oddly nice. "Sango," he said. He didn't mean to, but he purred. Sango thought it was impossible for Miroku _not _to ooze some kind of appeal, be it sexual or simple attraction. "Sango, the basement. Remember?"

Before she could answer she was interrupted by Van, who returned with a fistful of admission tickets. He seemed short of breath, but it was from emotional exertion, not a physical one. "I have the tickets." He regarded Miroku hopefully. "Anything?"

He shook his head regretfully, his hair falling into his eyes. "I'm sorry. There are too many people. I can't differentiate."

The hope in Van's eyes faded away. "That's okay. I know you tried your best. So where should we look first?"

Sango touched Miroku's arm gently. "The Gift Shop is in the basement. We can get down there without any trouble. You might have more luck probing down there. It would be less crowded than the entrance way. We might have to duck around guards. Ranma and I will take care of that. Akane, take care of the cameras."

"You got it, boss," Akane grinned. Ranma cracked his knuckles and looked ready to fight.

"What about us? What do I do?" Merle whined, feeling left out.

"Nothing Merle," Van said, placing a fatherly hand on her slim shoulder. "You and I aren't going to do anything. They're the ones trained to do this stuff." Though Merle frowned, she did not complain. Van's word was obviously law to her.

The group walked briskly to the stairs to the basement and the gift shop, trying not to look suspicious. Akane and Sango took the lead; Miroku, Merle and Van followed, and Ranma covered the back. When they reached the basement floor, Miroku shook his head.

"Nothing." He sniffed, rubbing his nose. "This isn't right. It doesn't smell right. There's no chlorine."

Akane shrugged. "Well, no where else to go," she said. She was pointing to the door marked _No Unauthorized Personnel Beyond_. Akane rubbed her hands. "I'll be right back."

She slipped behind the doors. They swung shut behind her. Leaning up on his toes, Miroku peered through a glass portion of the steel door to see what she was doing. He had been wondering how she was going to disarm the security cameras. He watched in amazement as she stood in the hallway, pressing her back to one of the walls to stay in the blind spot of one of the roaming security cameras. Wires emerging from the wall provided electricity for the camera. As he watched, the wires began to tremble and shake. Suddenly, they snapped in two, hissing and spitting. The camera went dead.

Akane opened the door with a grin. "The coast is clear. We have to hurry though. Someone will probably already be on their way to come down and figure out why the camera died." She sneezed into her elbow, and made an apologetic face. "Sorry. This place is filled with chemicals. I don't smell any chlorine, though…"

Stepping into the hallway, Miroku sniffed and nodded. "This is it. This is…."

He stopped short and dropped to the ground, clutching at his eyes. Everyone was surprised, but Sango sprang into action, seizing his shoulders and catching him before he struck the ground.

"Miroku!" She cradled him in her arms, and he fought her. She hated herself for what she was about to say. She knew what Merle might see, but she didn't want to leave Miroku. He was vulnerable as well as a danger to herself. She slid slowly to the ground, supporting Miroku. Merle's eyes were as large as cornflower blue saucers. "Merle! Hitomi's here, somewhere! Track her down! You know her scent. You guys go with her. I'll be all right here."

Merle obediently bolted down the hallway. Though fully human, she ran on all fours. Van ran after her, and Akane followed suit, warning them about security cameras. Only Ranma hesitated, his gaze never leaving the crumpled, pain-stricken form his friend. He nodded in Sango's direction. "Take care of him. Don't let him… you know."

Sango promised him she wouldn't, and he ran after the others.

Miroku by then had stopped fighting her. The pain and fear were ebbing away. In its place was grief, and acceptance. His mind was completely open. He felt like parts of him were floating everywhere, observing his friends, the floors above him, and Sango. Through it all, he was aware that his body was safely being protected by Sango. He knew it was her. The strong presence was safely wrapped around him again. It was almost euphoric.

"Don't worry, Miroku. I'm here," she told him softly.

Miroku's hand found hers. Despite everything, safe in that impenetrable psyche, he smiled. "I know, Sango. You always are."

* * *

Merle in the lead, she picked up speed when she smelt Hitomi's blood. She even let out a roar impossible for anyone but a demon to give. A door to a storage room loomed down the hallway. She could smell Hitomi's blood behind it. 

Merle gave no sign of stopping, despite the security cameras above her. Akane reached out with her mind and pulled on them with all her might, desperate to keep their identity a secret. Both security cameras in the hallway went flying away, shattering into pieces when they struck the opposing wall.

In fact, Merle did not even stop to stand to two feet and open the door. She picked up speed and slammed into the door with the entire right side of her body. The door, by far, didn't break. It barely even dented. It did, however, pop open. No door, when slammed by a full-body impact from a girl who was half-cat, could remain sealed.

She went flying into the room. When she lifted her head and the world stopped moving, the first thing she saw was Hitomi, blood running down her face, huddled on the floor. The second thing she saw was the _kinderstod_, his back to her. Merle screamed her rage, snarling and spitting, and her form changed. Fur spread down her body, and her ears rounded and moved to the top of her head. Her pink hair changed to orange, and stripes grew. Her bones shifted and a tail appeared from underneath a sundress which was very quickly becoming shredded to pieces.

When she landed on the _kinderstod_, she was entirely cat. Though still a cub as far as tigers went, she was none the less a hefty load, and her claws and teeth could inflict heavy damage. The size of a large golden retriever, she landed on the demon and sank her teeth into the soft, palpy skin of his neck, clinging to him with four paws full of retractable claws.

Van ran to his wife. His shirt ripped as his back bulged. His wings burst, white and shining in the dim light of the storage area, and he wrapped his wife up in them. She lifted her head and looked directly at him, though her eyes were closed. She reached out without hesitation and touched his cheek.

"Van… I didn't think you'd come."

He kissed her, raining kisses on her cheeks and lips and face. "I did, Hitomi, but I have to help Merle." He glanced up to find the _kinderstod_ not only being attacked by Merle, but Akane and Ranma as well. The demon, however, showed no signs of going down, though outnumbered. He kissed Hitomi again. "I have to help the others."

"Van?" She sighed. "I'll tell you later."

He nodded. "Try not to move."

"I won't."

"Try…"

"Just go!"

Everyone was so busy trying to kill the _kinderstod_ that no one saw the third person run away, except for two people. Hitomi, who could do nothing about it due to fatigue, blood loss, and being blind, and Miroku, who saw the world through Hitomi's eyes but was too far away to help.

Miroku sat up. His blue eyes were clearer than normal, but it was obvious he still wasn't entirely there. Something important was missing from the man Sango had first met. "Sango, the person who summoned the _kinderstod_ is getting away."

"Which way is he going?" Sango didn't waste the breath to ask how he knew this. She trusted him, and they hardly had time for explanations.

"East."

Sango looked in that direction, and hesitated. She turned back to stare at Miroku. She didn't want to leave him. He knew it, too. His smile was almost smug, if it weren't so kind. "I'm okay. I'm more than okay. Hitomi, she's… comforting. You go and catch the bad guy, Tiger."

* * *

To be Continued 


	21. Chasing Tora Sango

AN: The title for this chapter is based upon 'Chasing Amy', a film by Kevin Smith. I don't own it. I wish I did because Kevin Smith is a god. Instead I just used it for the title of this chapter because somehow, it works.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-One: Chasing Tora Sango

"Are you all right?" Van asked his wife, sitting on the edge of her bed. Merle sat snugly in Van's strong arms, her tail flickering softly.

Hitomi smiled at them, her smile as enigmatic as ever. When she did so, Van could almost imagine her soft green eyes were focused on him, her lashes half-lowered demurely. Instead, there was nothing. Her upper face was covered by the soft fabric of the gauzes Amy had carefully wrapped around her to hide the damage the demon had inflicted.

The damage had been surprisingly little. There had simply been a lot of blood. After Amy had been through with her, the bleeding had stopped and she had left Hitomi with a heavy brew meant to encourage healing and dull pain. There were no messy stitches or pills with Amy's healing. Miroku had been a special case. The damage he suffered from was from his psychic power and Amy could not help the source of the problem, nor were her powers good enough to contend with cardiac arrest. Hitomi, however, who suffered from external wounds, could be mended in a heartbeat.

"I feel fine, Van. But I worry about the girl who went out after that man. Has there been no sign of her yet?"

Van shook his head, and then recalled his wife's terrible accident. He opened his mouth to respond, but Hitomi seemed to have felt the action. She reached out slowly, her hand needing little guidance when she felt the heat of his face near her fingertips. Carefully, she dusted over a bruise on his cheekbone, and pressed her palm against his cheek.

The older man looked down at the girl in his arms and set her down on the floor. "Why don't you go and visit with Ranma and Akane again, Merle? I want to speak alone to Hitomi."

"Merle?" The cat-girl looked up at Hitomi's voice. It felt odd to see white cloths covering Hitomi's eyes, and yet still have that whole face focused on hers. "Please, send in that young man, Miroku. I should like to speak with him afterwards."

Merle nodded and scampered off, though with less energy than normal. The group was safe within the IBSP building, in the hospital wing. Amy was checking them all over for their injuries. There were miraculously few, especially after the demon had decided to call in reinforcements when he realized he had been outnumbered. Hitomi had been the most severely injured, followed by Merle, whose arm had broken. For now, Amy had mended it by putting it in a sling. Merle had refused treatment until Hitomi and Miroku had been looked after.

Van sighed when the door closed. He leaned over and kissed his wife gently, brushing her pale cheek. "Hitomi, why? Why couldn't you see this coming and do something about it?"

He thought she was crying, but she gave no sign of it if she did. If she was crying, the white linens hiding her eyes were soaking up the tears. Her bottom lip trembled and she leaned her forehead against his, throwing her arms around him. "Oh, Van, I did. I knew what was coming. Ask Miroku. I knew, and I left all the signs for him to find, ever since I first saw him in a vision. But, oh, Van! They were such horrid, horrid people! They said that if I didn't cooperate, they would hurt Merle!"

"And you can't identify them at all?" She shook her head and he kissed her damp brown hair lovingly. "Hitomi… you should have told me. I could have protected us all."

"You would have tried, and you would have failed," she sobbed. Hitomit shifted her weight so she was in his lap. "But I foiled them. They were after something, and I kept it from them. They'll never be able to find it now." She sniffled and then looked up at Van again. He felt shivers run up and down his spine when she did so. "Don't look so sad, Van. I dislike it when you look so sad."

He bristled with surprise. Hitomi smiled at him eerily. "Of course I know what you look like, Van. I don't my eyes to know when you're smiling or sad. My heart tells me, Van. They thought they took something special from me, but they didn't. I still have my powers, Van. I can see more colors than you ever can, in patterns that no human spirit could ever tame, not in all the centuries in the world! I can see your emotions, and Merle's, and they are _so_ beautiful, Van, that it almost breaks my heart."

He smiled at her, and she smiled back in return, brushing her fingers across his lips without any hint of hesitation. "This will take some getting used to, I know. Seeing only works for living things and heat, not for things like books. But, with practice, I should be able to move around just from memory and from the impressions you and Merle leave behind."

Van shook his head slowly. "Hitomi…"

"There is one thing I might like, though, Van. Please, hold me like you used to. You don't have to hide them here, Van. Please?" She looked up at him hopefully. Van released her and pulled off the shirt Ranma had leant him. He unfolded his wings and gathered Hitomi into them. She snuggled between his wings and his chest, safe and sound and warm. Hitomi kissed his neck before relaxing, slowly slinking into a well-deserved rest. "You shall have to hold me like this more often, Van. Your wings have such pretty colors. I feel as if I am wrapped in a rainbow, only it is so very pleasantly fluffy."

Van held her awkwardly for a moment, and then spoke again. "I love you, Hitomi Kanzaki."

"I know you do, Van, and I count my blessings for that every day."

* * *

Merle rapped on the door uncertainly. She walked into a very crowded room, staying far away from Ranma, who went pale when he saw her swishing tail. She smiled a little at his response, astounded than a man who had fought so fiercely could be startled just because she was part cat! Her skin threatened to break out into goosebumps when she remembered the way Akane and Ranma had fought—and together, nonetheless! She could hardly see their punches and their kicks, and they moved together so seamlessly, as if they were the same person. But Akane had faltered, and then Ranma had been on alone against two of them… She had never seen _anybody_ fight like _that_!

Merle jumped up on the bed, pouncing Miroku. She sniffed his hair. "You smell like Hitomi."

Miroku smiled at her, and reached around to ruffle her air. "I suspect that's because our powers are closely related to each other, Merle." He let out a forlorn sigh as Amy began to tidy up, done her examination. Miroku had suffered no damage from his last vision—for which he was very grateful. Somehow, luck had been with him. There had been no raspiness in his breathing, and so he wouldn't need hospitalization for all of the coughing he'd been doing lately. "I wish I had Hitomi's control of it, though. I would like to know what happened to Sango."

Akane reached over and touched his shoulder gently. "Miroku, you know that Ferio's out looking for her. I'm sure that he can find her."

He smiled wearily. "I'd just feel a bit better if Kakashi was out looking for her too. He'd keep hunting for Sango, no matter what. It…" He shuddered, and he didn't have to finish his sentence. Everyone knew where he had been about to go with that thought, and none of them wanted to think of it.

When they had arrived at the Bureau without Sango, Kakashi had been furious. He had gotten people to escort the Fanel family to the hospital level, and then yelled at Akane, Miroku, and Ranma until Ferio had finally gotten him to calm down. Sesshomaru had helped too, leaving Rin clinging to Miroku fearfully.

Kakashi had yelled until he had been red in the face. People down the hall had heard him and actually popped their heads out from around corners to see who was getting in trouble with the famous Kakashi. He demanded to know why they had let her go on her own, and why no one had gone after her to help her. Then Ranma had said that they had split up before hand, leaving Sango alone with Miroku.

Suddenly the young man had found himself to sole focus of Kakashi's wrath. Never mind that Miroku was still having trouble standing on his own power from the fatigue of having a vision and from hunger. Kakashi was too upset to notice Miroku's state. All he could think of was the next call he received being a message that they had found the next victim—and it was Sango. He didn't even notice how frightened Miroku looked. Miroku was scared of the same thing Kakashi was.

Finally, after what had seemed like forever, Ferio had rushed up and had began defending Miroku, stepping between his charge and the angry senior officer. When Kakashi accused Ferio that it was his fault for not having trained Miroku and Ranma better as officers, someone fetched Sesshomaru. The appearance of the head boss had put an end to everything, but not before Ferio had thrown a punch at Kakashi. It had connected with the other man's cheek with such force his face snapped to the side. Everyone had been shocked, and Ferio was breathing heavily from an adrenaline rush.

Sesshomaru's sheer presence had been enough to keep Kakashi from retaliating. Kakashi had to be ordered to return to his bedroom and wait there, as if he were a child. Ferio was ordered to go out and look for Sango, taking with him a few other groups of officers.

Even now, Miroku appeared forlorn, staring occasionally straight ahead, lost in his own world. Merle studied him as he once again became lost in space, his peaceful blue eyes shadowed by the way he let his head fall and his bangs hide his gaze. Her tail wavered, and she meant to ask him what was wrong, but Amy interrupted her.

"Come on, Merle. It's time to look at that arm of yours."

The pink-haired girl pouted. "I don't want to. What's wrong with Miroku? He still looks sick!"

Akane joined in, gently taking Merle's hand. "Come along, Merle. I'll go with you and keep you company." At that, Merle perked up. She squeezed Akane's hand and went obediently with Akane and Amy.

Ranma watched them leave. Afterwards, he turned back to Miroku, trying to cheer his friend up. The look in Miroku's eyes said that he didn't want to be cheered up. Ranma frowned, not liking such thoughts. He daren't admit to Miroku that he, too, was worried about Sango. He'd seen her fight and new that she could take care of herself, but even Ranma knew he could be overpowered. The same would be true of Sango. Ranma disliked thinking that he was actually capable of worrying. He couldn't recall ever worrying until he had met Tendo Akane.

Miroku was the same way—he didn't like making it obvious that he was worrying—but he was far less stubborn about it. He preferred being happy and carefree. That was part of the reason why they got along so well. Both of them hid their emotions, but in their own ways. Ranma was quieter and preferred lazying about the house, reading a good manga, or exercising, while Miroku preferred the company of people to take his mind off of heavier thoughts.

"You're really that worried about Sango?" Ranma inquired.

Before he could answer, Akane knocked quietly on the door. "Miroku? Merle asked me to pass on a message. She said that Hitomi would like to se… ah, she requests a moment of your time." Akane smiled sweetly at Ranma. "Ranma, did you want to come with me and keep Merle company?"

* * *

Hitomi looked up when she heard the door open. Miroku thought it was creepy. He wasn't sure if the white cloth over her eyes made it worse, or not. At least if she was in normal clothes and if she was wearing sunglasses, she could have appeared a little more normal. Now it just felt like something from a horror movie. He was pausing in the doorway, and Van was aware of it. Miroku felt those dark eyes staring at him and he quickly shut the door, moving to the unoccupied guest chair.

"You wanted something, Hitomi?"

She smiled at him, and he saw her hand lightly move to cover Van's, as if calming him as she favored Miroku with her attention, and not her husband. "I did. I saw you, Miroku. I don't know if you were aware of that or not. I knew that you would walk into my office, looking for a sign of where I was. I suppose, deep down, I really did want to be found, even though I knew of the dangers it would pose to my family. I was scared. I was terrified.

"But those powers, they are like mine. Passive, always on whether we want them to be or not. Mine was stronger than yours, and now yours seem to be growing, yes?" Miroku nodded, too shocked to speak, and then blushed. Hitomi continued anyway. "Now you see the world the way I do. The way I used too. Flashes of color indicating presences and emotions. Things have taste and color that didn't before, and smell. It goes beyond every sense you've ever known, and it should. That's why our powers are called the sixth sense. It encompasses everything, giving form and sensations to things which are ethereal. Soon, you too will come to realize that anger can smell like cinnamon and give off electrical currents that make your skin feel hot, or that fear really is cold, numbing you all the way to your bones.

"I can help, Miroku. I can tell you what to expect, how to control it a little bit, to force yourself to ignore some of those flashes of emotion and color to focus." Her voice turned a little sad, full of pity, but it was directed at herself. "I was born with that power level when I was very young. It's why sometimes, I go in and out of reality now. It had already impacted me by the time I was old enough to start exercising control. Yours is dangerous, but in a different way. My powers comes from an old family that did Tarot card readings and tea readings, all the manner of carnival tricks you no doubt saw as a child.

"Yours comes from your empathy. It will be harder to control. You will not have problems with colors, as I did. I was always so jumpy as a child, trying to spot every new shade and wondering why my teacher was one shade, and a student the next. You, no doubt, will feel things more than I do. Here," she said, touching her heart, "not with your fingers. You must learn to shield yourself from the feelings of others, especially if you intend to finish this case. Otherwise, you might begin to sympathize and imitate the very people you are trying to find."

He shivered at the very idea of understanding why someone would vivisect a human being, or why they would make someone as sweet as Eve and Hitomi suffer. "Any help you can give me would be very much appreciated, Mrs. Fanel."

"Please, I'm Hitomi. As much as I love having Van's name, Merle's teachers call me that. My friends and family call me Hitomi." She paused, picking fluff balls from the light blanket covering her legs. For the first time since she began talking, her voice wavered, becoming softer and childlike. "Tell me… please, what happened to the necklace I gave my sister? Did you… find it?"

He nodded, and then it dawned on him. "Of course! _You_ would have given that to her! How many cousins can she have that are as close as sisters to her?"  
"I would be the only one. Miroku, where is it?"

"As far as I know S… Sango has it," he said, stumbling over her name. For one horrified moment, he had offered to give it back to Hitomi, and then realized once more that Sango might never come back to return it to Hitomi. Sango would be lost and gone, and it would all be _his_ fault. He should have gone with her. At the very least, he could have watched her back, and make sure there weren't more summoners waiting for them. Twice a fool, then, and once more again because he had been trapped by a pretty face.

Picking up on his nervousness, Hitomi, still holding Van's hand, leaned forward and indicated for Miroku to sit on the other side of the hospital bed. Van didn't look up when Miroku sat down beside Hitomi. He was too busy gazing at his wife adoringly. Occasionally, she blushed and lowered her face, as if joining in some silent conversation with him.

"You're worried about the girl that was with you. Sango. I can feel it. Everyone is worried about her. Even little Merle."

"We weren't supposed to split up," supplied Miroku, shaking his head regretfully. He felt Hitomi gently pat his cheek, trying to cheer him up.

She spoke gently to him, sounding almost mystical. "Together, Miroku, we can find her. I'll show you how to find her. You are her friend and her partner, giving us a connection to her. I have the knowledge, and we have Van for encouragement. Really, all you need in a situation like this is a focus, and one person. Two is better. Three is the best. Why? Because they form a triangle, and triangles are stable. In this case, we don't really need a focus, I don't think. It's just a training exercise, and from what Van has told me, several senior officers are already out looking for her. Our help really isn't needed.

"Close your eyes. You too, Van." She let out a silvery little laugh as her husband pursed his lips, not liking to let his guard down. Eventually, his eyes closed too and she continued to instruct. "In this case, Miroku, your empathy is your asset. Relax. Let your mind wander and think of Sango. That is the first step. I will do the next step. All I need you to do is to focus on Sango."

"I don't mean to sound foolish but, ah, what exactly do I focus on?" Miroku asked.

"Oh, anything you want, so long as it's about Sango. The things you feel when you think of her are the most potent. They're raw; not like memories which can fade in time. Start with the physical things you remember about her most vividly. Build her in your mind. Then add on personality, and finally, emotion."

Immediately, a picture began forming in his mind. He didn't even need to focus on it. Her hair came first, unbound and whispering as it swayed in his mind. He built the texture of it next, letting it feel full and warm rather than silky-smooth. Next came her eyes, more beautiful than he could remember, looking more gold than brown in his mind. Then came the eyelashes, soft and long, followed by the mouth. He almost sighed out loud, remembering her promise of a kiss. The body came next, delicate contours and the line of wiry muscle that made her curvy in every proportion. Her ears came next, pointed, and he imagined her teeth slightly pointed as well. He chuckled as the personality came on its own and she demanded what he was doing, pointing out she was not his own personal Barbie doll.

Hitomi's mind nudged his. He could scarcely feel it. It felt like he was soaring over the ground on angel wings. She guided him gently, pushing him in the right direction.

He wasn't expecting it when those waves rushed over him again, so forceful it almost shattered his concentration. This time it wasn't like before. Sango wasn't determined. She was frightened. Miroku felt like he was catching the emotions of a seven year old child who was worried about getting in trouble with her father. He followed those thoughts, bitterly sweet, until he came to the thoughts underneath them, the real thoughts. He found true fear there. Those thoughts shivered. They were cold, as Hitomi had predicted, but they had no smell yet.

He took those fears, slipping them away from her in small quantities, trying to relieve Sango of her burden. The breeze caught them and took them away from her. Sango let out a sigh and her shoulders slumped. She could almost feel him near her as he wrapped his arms around her, resting his head on her soft brown hair and trying to warm her. Miroku kissed her head lovingly, and he felt her stiffen, as if she had really felt his lips against the crown of her head.

He could feel the heat her body was starting to generate, but then a tremor passed through it. He felt the fear come again, and she turned to look at the green-haired man next to her.

"You don't think they'll have to give me needle, do you?"

Now Miroku knew what to do. He looked around trying to take note of everything he could. This was just like his vision, a ghost of himself taking place in something he could not impact. He recognized where they were, and almost ran back to his own mind in sheer glee, but Sango's next sentence made him stop.

"Di… Did Urahara say anything? I… I mean, did he…"

Urahara? _Urahara?_

Miroku gritted his teeth. Akane, Ranma, and himself were almost beside themselves were worry, and the first person she thought about was Urahara? What about Merle? What about Hitomi? What happened to Kakashi?

"I think he was upstairs with Kakashi," Ferio responded. He eyed Sango coolly and the elevator doors opened. Ferio placed an arm around Sango, helping her to walk. She seemed to be limping. As the doors closed behind them, he said casually, "Miroku was most worried about you, I think. He refused to leave the museum until you came back, you know." Sango stared ahead, saying nothing. "He finally agreed to get into the ambulance when Ranma threatened him."

"To what? Hit him?"

"No," chuckled Ferio. "Burn all his books."

Sango smiled grimly. "I suppose that sounds like something that would make Miroku react to something."

Ferio regarded her again, trying to access the situation. He was on fragile ground, and was walking carefully to avoid becoming trapped by his own words. The man's gold eyes seemed to smile when he began to understand the tone in Sango's voice when she talked about Miroku. "You don't like him very much, do you?"

"I don't hate him, if that's what you mean."

"You pointedly avoid asking me how he was. The entire ride home, you inquired about Hitomi, your uncle, Akane, even my wife, but never Miroku. I can't understand why." Ferio scratched his head, using an expression and a tone of voice Miroku recognized from when he was a child. He'd been trapped by that naïve, confused ploy before. "I mean, if he's coming on to you or making you feel uncomfortable in anyway, then you can speak to me about it. I know Miroku's a prick. God help me. I can talk to him for you, make sure to keep the group running smoothly. After all, there's a mission and people at stake here…"

"It's fine," she snapped. Guiltily, she kept staring down at the ground. "I mean… I apologize. It _is_ fine. You're right. Miroku can be a prick sometimes, but… there's a decent guy in there somewhere, and he has a brain on his shoulders, so I suppose that you have to respect that. There are so few males my own age who have a brain, after all. But… but…" She paused and then look at up Ferio. "All these visions he's been having… it feels like every one of them draws the life out of him, like it kills a part of him. He keeps pushing himself so hard, trying to be cheerful, and all of us, not just me, can see that this is very slowly killing him. You can too, can't you?"

Ferio nodded. Miroku was beginning to feel a little bit like Ebenezer Scrooge must have felt when he realized that he was listening to people talk about his own funeral.

"And that's just it, Ferio. I do like him. I respect his brain, and god help me, I think I'm actually starting to enjoy playing mind games with him, trying to trap one another, and don't go spreading it around but, he's attractive too. I mean, that is to say, he's certainly not ugly. But… but how can I allow myself to… to get _close_ to him in any sort of way when at any moment, that spark in him we all respect in him might be… gone?"

Miroku snapped out of his vision. He banished all thoughts of the conversation he had heard from his mind and stood up. He was so rushed, he forgot to thank Hitomi and Van. All he could think was: 'Sango was on the elevator. She's okay.' He was perking up; life seemed to be flowing back into his body, energizing him until he seemed to emanate vivacity.

A worried smile touched his face. He lurched from the bed uncertainly, his foot wobbling on stable ground. Miroku threw open the door and ran down the hall. He could feel the sweet bliss of Sango's fiery aura filling the hallway, potent and lush.

He skidded to a stop when he saw her stepping off the elevator. She'd gotten the crap kicked out of her. Ferio's arm was still around her supportively, and she leaned on him to take the weight off of her ankle. Her clothes were in tatters and she clutched Ferio's blazer to protect her dignity with a pale, shaking fist. Blood stood out like rose petals on her cheeks, a bruise forming under them. Her pretty mouth sported a split lip, and she was wincing a lot. Her long hair was unbound and tangled. Her shoes were scuffed, and one arm seemed to hand at an odd angled when compared to the rest of her body.

She looked up when she smelt Miroku coming in her direction. She smiled wryly. "At least one of us looks good." She paused for timing. "You look like crap. At least I can still walk."

Perhaps to both their surprise, he laughed. "As charming as ever, Sango. What happened to you? Everyone was getting worried!"

Touched, Sango blushed gently, avoiding his gaze. Ferio supplied an answer for Miroku. "Seems the guy she was tracking decided to call in reinforcements. We found her fighting two lesser demons he'd called in to distract her."

"Oh, Sango…"

She grimaced at his tone. "Don't you dare think me soft, Miroku."

Ferio caught his eye. "She took down two other demons by herself until they overpowered her."

Miroku was impressed. Reaching out, he took Sango gently into his arms, holding her preciously. She put up no resistance, too tired and sore to protest being held by him. "I'll take Sango to an empty room. Amy's busy right now with Merle. Why don't you go get Kakashi? He's worried sick about her."

Blushing deeply, Sango had to brace herself against Miroku's arms to keep from losing balance. "I'm perfectly all right, Miroku. I don't need to see a doctor. Half-demon, remember? I heal fast."

Her protests did nothing. Ferio left to tell his friend that Sango was safe and sound, and Sango resigned to being sheltered by Miroku, though she still worried about Amy and needles. Miroku guided her to a free room, laughing all the way. He teased her lightly, trying to get her into a better mood, and she took it fairly well. Eventually, he got down to business, inquiring, "Did you get his scent? Could you find him if you were close to him?"

Sango shook her head as Miroku gently sat her on the bed, standing in front of her. "No. I was tracing by sight, not scent. There were too many people. Honestly, Miroku, all I could smell was yo… Hey!" She slapped his hand away when he reached for the hem of Ferio's blazer. Her eyes flashed gold dangerously. "What do you think you're doing?"

If he didn't know any better, he would have said that she sounded frightened. Miroku stared at her. "Sango, your shoulder looks like it's dislocated. Relax. I'm not trying to force myself on you, I just want to assess the situation."

"Is that some kind of player code for checking out my cup size?"

"Sango…." This time it was said sternly. Sango sighed, knowing she was being hard on him. He earnestly wanted to help, and she just kept pushing him away. The next time, when he reached for her, she let his hand slip into hers and he drew her hands away. Ferio's jacket slipped off, and Miroku winced when he saw the jagged claw marks on her chest. "You really do heal fast. They're already clotting."

With a smile, Sango was barely able to restrain her 'I told you so'. Miroku sat down behind her, and she shivered when his hands moved her long hair away gently, careful not to pull any knots. His fingers lightly touched the exposed skin of her shoulders. Sango felt goosebumps.

"What are you doing?"

"Relax. It will make it much easier if you relax."

Sango nearly jumped off the bed. "What will be easier if I relax?"

Miroku chuckled. For once, Sango found the sound unnerving. Something was terribly wrong with the situation. She felt like everything was happening to someone else. Tora Sango was not the type of girl to be found wearing ripped, bloodied clothes with a strange man touching her back with gentle caresses and laughing like that. Never like that; never as if he was chuckling at her with the devotion of an older lover, never. Things like that happened to girls in books, fairy tales, and women who looked for love. All Tora Sango wanted was to get good marks on her science exams.

He leaned in close. She could feel the heat of his body on her bare skin. His breath tickled her neck, and his nose brushed the pointed curve of her ear as he whispered to her. "Sango, trust me. Relax. If you don't. I might just have to start seducing you to get you to relax."

Sango bit her lip. His hands roamed her back, and she did her best to relax. God help her, the last thing she wanted was to give that pervert an excuse to flirt with her! But his mouth never backed away. She continued to feel him barely touching her in intimate ways: his breath on her skin, his hair brushed hers, his breathing in her ears….

SNAP!

Sango let out a loud yelped and jumped off the bed, clutching her shoulder. Mrioku caught her before her weight went on her bad ankle and she fell to the ground. She growled at him and glowered, like a spitting cat. "What the hell was that?"

Miroku smiled at her. She wanted to punch the dumb grin from his face. "Have you seen the way Ranma fights? I think he thinks he has a body like yours, one that will take any abuse he puts it through. I fixed your shoulder. I've gotten lots of practice fixing Ranma's."

"You could have warned me!"

"And have your muscles seize up when I'm about to help fix you?" Miroku was about to laugh at her anger, until he realized she seemed genuinely distressed. He guided her back down on the bed and then took her hand, holding it in his. "If you want, you can go ahead and punch me for it. I won't mind."

Sango's anger seemed to melt away at the idea of hitting him. She left her hand in his and glanced away again, trying to by herself some time to figure out exactly why she was mad at him. Was it because he had caused her pain? Was it because she'd been in pain? Or maybe… maybe it was because she couldn't figure him out; for the life of Sango, she could never figure out when he was joking about dating her, and when he was seriously trying to get into her pants!

He reached out, taking her chin in his hand. "I really was worried about you, you know. I felt like it was all my fault." His blue eyes seemed to be swimming, looking more grey with unshed tears than their normal blue. "I kept on thinking to myself, Sango's gone. I'm never going to get to tease her again. I'm not going to get to solve this case with her. I'm never going to get that kiss she promised me." He continued before she could accuse him of trying to take that kiss from her. He leaned over to stare directly at her. "I'm going to lose someone else I ca…."

"TORA SANGO!" The door slammed open and Kakashi marched into the room. Ferio came in behind him, wincing at the tone of Kakashi's voice. Behind him, Urahara's hat was barely visible. "You are in such trouble, young lady!"

Eventually, Kakashi had run out of things to say. Amy checked Sango over and applied a few patches. She was right; she did have an amazing healing ability. Kakashi then scooped Sango up in his arms and carried her upstairs. She bathed and he carried her to bed, tucking her underneath warm and fluffy covers. Sango snuggled into bed, curling up around Kakashi and holding his hand.

"I'm sorry I made you angry, Uncle."

Touched, his eye danced and he leaned down to kiss her forehead. "Never angry, Sango, never angry. Just frightened."

They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Kakashi answered it. Urahara walked into Sango's room, unaccompanied. Seeing him, she smiled and yawned, but frowned when she noted that his clothes were wrinkled and his hat was askew. To her surprise, he pulled it off, inclining his head and sitting down beside her slowly, like he was worried his presence was unwanted.

Sango sat up in bed, blushing, though she kept her eyes on him. "You're not going to yell at me too, are you, Urahara-sama?"

"No, Kitten. I'm not."

She caught the whiff of sake on his breath and she glared at him, though not with her usual potency. "Have… have you been drinking, Urahara-sama?"

"Both Kakashi and I tossed a few of them back. What else were we going to do, Sango? We were both incredibly worried when we found out that you'd taken off like that. It's understandable, but it scared the life out of us."

"You know I don't like it when you drink, Urahara-sama…"

His baby blue eyes seemed to become hollow as he regarded her. Urahara licked his lips nervously. He reached out to her, and then drew back, folding his hands together to keep them from shaking. "Sango, don't forget that I know what those bodies looked like. I've lived a long time, Sango. I've seen a lot of people die. All I could think, all your uncle could think of, was finding you like that. Blood everywhere, your skin pale, no life in your eyes… and it was killing us inside. I felt like you were already dead. And all I could think was… I never told her. Never. Why not? I was afraid… afraid of Kakashi, and what you would say, and so I'd… I'd always just assumed that… that you'd known. And then I realized that as afraid as I was of having you realize that I cared for you as something more than… more than friends, or a teacher or family, more than anything… you might hate me and fear me, and that as scared as I was… not having you was by far more terrifying."

Sango felt her breath catch in her throat with expectation. Urahara leaned close to her, his pale blonde hair mingling with hers. She could see his hands clench from the corner of her gaze.

"Tora Sango… I love you."

He didn't give her time for a response. He leaned over and he kissed her gently. Sango closed her eyes, enjoying the feelings of his hands snaking up her back and entangling in her damp hair. He felt safe and familiar, and she loved it. His kiss was simultaneously passionate and happy in her safety, and scared, until she began to kiss him back. Then the latter disappeared and it was full of revelry and zeal.

After he left, not expecting her to have a response and thus freeing her from the burden of answering, Sango lay in bed, thinking. She was happy that he had said that. His words echoed repeatedly in her mind, each revival making her feel excited and gleeful all over again.

But inside, her thoughts were treasonous, and she found herself desperately wishing that the confession had come from someone else that day.

* * *

Miroku was leaning against the wall opposite of Kakashi's front door when Urahara walked out. Electricity seemed to snap between them as they glared at one another. Miroku stood up to his full height, but the full demon was still taller. Both of them knew what had gone on in that room. Miroku knew from Urahara's body language, the liveliness in his eyes, and the way his lips were swollen and red.

"Don't you think you're a bit old to be chasing after Sango?" Miroku inquired, his voice dripping with warning and promises of retribution.

Urahara merely smiled, tugging his hat low to hide his eyes. "Don't you think you're a bit too immature to chase after a girl like Tora Sango?" He cracked his knuckles, though he made it seem like a normal gesture rather than a threat. "Your generation… they fight for things, don't they? Is that what you want? To fight over her like gentlemen in a duel of honor?"

"You know as well as I do that Sango won't go for that. It's not up to us to decide which one of us gets her. It's Sango herself."

"Quite right. I'm glad you understand what you're getting yourself into, at least." His smile turned friendly and he held out his hand. "To Sango's decision, then?"

Miroku accepted the offering, shaking his hand. "To Sango."

* * *

To be Continued...


	22. The Rules of Aquisition

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Rules of Aquisition

"Sango?"

The young lady in question turned around, a guilty expression on her face. When she saw it was Miroku approaching her, the feeling only increased. She eyed the track pants and the muscle t-shirt he was wearing. They were his exercise clothes. Somehow, they didn't suit the suave, charming person she mentally associated with him, but at the same time, they reminded her that he, too, had been trained to fight. He was hiding the bags under his eyes with a smile, but despite the weariness of his body, physically he was still strong. His arms were lithe, the muscular structure truly visible when he moved and the shadows deepened or lessened. Sango thought he'd always looked broad shouldered because of the suits he wore, but he really was. If the way the pants hugged his waist was true, then he also had the abs to compliment the shoulders.

Indeed, when he smiled at her, there was no trace of the tired man habiting his body recently. "Decided to exercise, did you?"

Sango nodded, fixing her own tank top self-consciously. "Yeah. I don't want to let myself get out of shape. I know I was outnumbered yesterday, but I still feel like I should have taken down more than just two of them before those damn creatures got the better of me."

Miroku reached her and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear for her. His eyes were dark as he looked down at her, and she kept noticing them sliding down to look at her lips. "Don't you think that you should still be in bed recuperating, Sango? Half-demon or not, you still need rest."

This time, she grinned at him. "I feel fine, Miroku. In fact, I feel better than fine."

"Well, I'm still not feeling fine. How about we team up? So long as you promise to go easy on me, Kitten."

As his fingers began trailing down her jaw line, Sango felt a sense of _deja_ _vus_. What was it with men in her life calling her 'Kitten'? She was not a _kitten_, damn it! Sango bit her lower lip to keep from saying anything. Miroku noticed the movement, and his eyes seemed to envelop her, drawing her in. He stepped closer to her and she stood, frozen on the spot.

She'd heard about things like this happening from vampires. Miroku, despite being Registered, was _not_ a vampire. No, it wasn't telepathy that made Sango compliant as his other hand played with her ponytail. It was that he seemed to be so honestly interested with her. Sango was his whole world, and she relished it. She could almost sense that he was eager to let her hair down and touch her more, to kiss her and romance her the way she was supposed to…

"Urahara." Miroku froze. Sango was still staring up at her, and she swallowed with great difficulty, repeating the name. "Urahara said that he was going to come and practice with me. He's a great fighter. One of the best fighters we have. I suppose it's because he's such a _smart_ fighter."

As she spoke about him, she became more animated. Miroku flinched away. "You wouldn't really see it by looking at him, would you? I mean, he looks kind of gangly, and he's always wearing those silly geta sandles…" She trailed off, smiling thoughtfully. "But he really is quite talented. You should see for yourself, Miroku."

His saliva tasted bitter when he swallowed. "I'll think about that. Can we… could we make arrangements to exercise together tomorrow."

Sango smiled. She didn't seem to pick up on how he seemed wistful, or injured at the way that she talked about Urahara. Her smile was bright and open, even if she did wince and touch a healing black eye. "Ow. Yeah. I mean… I mean, yes, Miroku. I think I would like that very much. You're not a bad sparring partner at all."

She stopped and her gaze drifted away from him when the elevator doors slid open with a ping. Urahara stepped off. Her gold-brown eyes suddenly seemed to sparkle when she saw him, and Miroku actually heard her breath catch. She seemed to have magically lost years when she saw Kitsune Urahara, looking like a seventeen year old girl. Miroku was barely able to control a sneer of disgust, hiding it underneath disappointment, and hiding that under a cheerful smile.

"Well, have fun, Sango. It looks like I'll be exercising by myself…"

"Oh? Why not ask Akane and Ranma?"  
He shrugged. "Akane wanted to go and practice at her family's dojo. Ranma went with her. You know? To keep her safe, and to be an exercise partner and everything." Miroku turned away from Sango when Urahara came too close to comfort—within touching distance of Sango. He felt like something was stabbing him as he watched Sango cautiously redistribute her weight so she could be closer to Urahara. Her hand slowly drifted until it found Urahara's. "Sir."

"Miroku. Were you going to risk practicing too?" he pleasantly inquired with a smile. He even gave Miroku the courtesy of lifting the rim of his hat so they could see each other clearly.

"I was."

"Why not join us? You and Sango can practice teamwork skills by fighting me. I'm not injured like you two, so I very much doubt that I'm really giving you the advantage, but I…"

"That's quite alright." Miroku was already shaking his head and bowing away. Sango looked a little hurt, and curious, tilting her head and letting her eyes follow even the slightest movement Miroku made, as if they might let something slip. "Thank you for offering. I don't mind practicing by myself, really. I work much better as one. I will be nearby, though, in case anything happens. Have fun!" Plastering a large grin on his face and cheerfully waving farewell, Miroku made a hasty exit.

Sango pursed her lips, watching him leave. Something wasn't right with Miroku, but she couldn't figure out…

"I hope he didn't mistake my offer for charity," Urahara remarked. Sango looked up at him, losing her train of thought. He was also watching Miroku leave, his blue eyes almost looking… sad and hurt that he would walk away. "I was being serious. Still… I suppose that if I'd been someone like Miroku…" For a moment he seemed about to continue and then he remembered he was holding Sango's hand. He squeezed it and smiled at her brightly. "What am I saying? Let's get started. You've already warmed up, haven't you?"

She nodded as he escorted her to one of the private rooms, where they could take up as much room as they wanted without getting in anyone's way. "Aren't you going to warm up today, Urahara-sama?"

He shook his head and shut the door behind them. "Nope. We're going to try something quite different today, Kitten." She gulped nervously as she watched him remove his sandals and lie them just inside the door. When he began removing his green shirt, he carefully folded it and placed it over his shoes. He still had his cane, which he rested his hands on lightly and he looked at her.

"You're a marvelous fighter, Sango. I doubt that there's much I could teach you which you haven't already learned when it comes to unarmed combat… and you could probably give me a run for my money when it came to fencing as well. But there is one aspect of fighting which has been sorely neglected." His blue eyes danced and he slid off his head, tossing it unto the pile. His blond hair was plastered to his head. "Sango, when the summoner called in reinforcements, were you alone?"

"Y… yes, sir."

"How did fight you them?"

She was stammering, uncertain of where their argument was going. "I had a gun. I shot one. Then it became hand to hand and I couldn't get a shot in. I disarmed another. They all had weapons. I fought with the weapon I picked up from them, sir."

"And you have your own weapons. Why didn't you use them? If you were tucked away from human eyes, they would have allowed you to change. What happens the next time you don't have any weapons, Sango? You have to learn how to fight with everything you have, and that includes the talents that you inherited from your father. Your first lesson will be in agility."

Her anxiety disappeared and she smiled up at him brilliantly, all the look of a schoolgirl who had been told she could break the rules. "You… you mean…"

He nodded and she squealed in delight. Sango flung herself on Urahara, throwing her arms about his neck and kissing him soundly on the mouth. She retreated with a blush, blushing harder when she realized that it would be prudent to remove some clothing before she changed, as he had done. Shape-shifting with clothing was possible, but required attention Sango knew she didn't have.

Urahara did not need to be asked to turn around and look the other way while Sango removed her tank top. Their backs to each other, both of them began to change. Sango's heart began to beat faster and faster as the change proceeded. When she turned around, there was Urahara…

He was as golden as she was striped, his body sleek and muscular. He blinked at her, regarding her back, and he seemed to smile. His wheat-colored body slunk forward, revealing the muscles underneath, and his paws seemed to strike the ground with a force emanating solely from the deadly claws he concealed behind tufts of skin and fur. Reaching Sango, he licked her cheek cautiously, sitting down before her.

If cats could blush, Sango would have been doing so at that moment. She had not seen Urahara in his mountain lion form since she had been very little. He had never seen her as a tiger before. She lifted a paw and self-consciously smoothed down the fine fur of her muzzle, trying to make sure she was presentable. Underneath it, she was happy. Power coursed through her veins and she thrived on it. She loved it. She felt free, impossibly free. Her striped tail twitched as it curled around her body.

_The game is simple, Sango. All you have to do is try to capture my tail._

Sango eyed him warily. _That's it?_

_It sounds much harder than it really is. Go ahead, try._

His tail was curled around his body, laying beside his foot, the tip rising and falling slowly. Sango eyed it, wondering what the trick was. She reached out for it, no speed in her attack. She simply reached out. Without a word of warning or sign that he was going to move, Urahara swiped her hand away. Sango pulled it back, shocked. She examined it. His nails were still sheathed. If they hadn't been, he probably could have severed her tendon. Now she understood the game. It really was about agility.

Sango backed up and dove for the tail. Urahara bounded away before she landed on his tail. They circled each other and dove in and out, a weaving dance of gold and orange. When Sango was in reach of his tail and wasn't paying attention, she received a cuff on her head, to remind her that though her goal was his tail, his weapons were somewhere else and needed to be remembered as well. A few times she came close to catching his tail in between her teeth, but he—so she claimed—_cheated_ by turning around on the head of a pin and licking her face. Urahara only laughed, never disagreeing or agreeing that he had cheated. More than a few times, Sango had accidentally gotten carried away and used her claws, breaking through Urahara's tough skin. He reprimanded her, but said little else about it. He had learned the game as a young boy, and he knew how much fun it was. It was easy to get carried away.

Neither of them saw the time fly by. Miroku came and left, glancing in to see what they were doing.

Finally, frustrated that she wasn't winning, Sango decided that she had had enough. She feinted a lunge for the tip of Urahara's bobbing tail, and changed at the last second, as he had so often done to her. Her jaws closed about his neck and she pounced, pinning him to the ground. Both of then were painting heavily, and Urahara was as quiet as they grave.

_Cheater,_ he accused, once had had gotten over the shock of Sango going in for the killing blow.

_I merely changed the rules of acquisition,_ Sango corrected. She felt like her heart was going a hundred miles per hour, and she couldn't quite seem to make herself want to remove her massive jaws from around Urahara's neck. Her body was still pumping with adrenaline and something, some instinct deep inside her, was trying to take control. Only Sango's logic kept it in check. _I'm supposed to get your tail, aren't I? I can't. Every time I get close, I get hit, or licked, or you dodge out of the way. If you're dead, you can't strike back, and I can attack your tail all I want without retribution._

_That's twisted logic, Sango._

Panting heavily, she asked, _I'm right, aren't I? That's what you were trying to teach me with swiping at me whenever I went for the tail—the wrong end._

_No, Sango,_ he said gently. _That was supposed to teach you that you weren't fast enough. Still… you would have won with this reasoning, even if it is a bit ruthless._

Sango released his jaw and sat back, looking at him sadly. He continued to lay on his back on the floor, as if mocking death. There was no blood on his jaw. Though Sango might have gotten carried away with her claws, she knew how to work her teeth. That, at least, was maternal instinct. Her jaws could crush bones or carry a kitten without bruising it. When he didn't move, Sango let out a little whine and leaned down, licking his jaw as if to entice him to get up.

_I'm sorry, Urahara._

She moved from his neck to one of the small wounds, marked on his gleaming coat with a dot of blood. She began to lick it. His blood was warm on her tongue, but not unpleasant. Sango continued to lick.

_You… you should stop that,_ he said finally, his voice strained. He didn't get up, though. He stared up at the ceiling, as if trying to ignore her. _You really don't know what you're doing, Sango._

_Sure I do. I'm cleaning your wounds. This is what we do, isn't it?_

_Yes, well… the problem is, in more ways than one._

Sango looked down at him, confused. With a smirk on his feline face, Urahara rolled over and pushed himself up. He butted her head with his, sighing and chuckling at the same time. He even gave her ear a lick to tell her he wasn't angry.

_I'll explain later, Sango. It's getting late and I'm hungry. Let's go get some food, shall we?_

* * *

Sango paused in the cafeteria. Miroku sat alone at a table, a textbook propped up against the napkin dispenser, his eyes glued to the page. His reading glasses made him look oddly distinguished. He seemed absorbed by the book, and yet she felt a little bad that he was sitting all by himself. He did look a little lonely…

Biting her bottom lip, she heard Urahara move beside her and she looked up at him, a little puzzled, and more than a little suspicious. "You and Miroku have both been acting quite odd, Urahara-sama." Her eyes narrowed a little. "Is there something that you want to tell me?"

He smiled at her and managed to hold back a laugh. He didn't think that Sango would take it the right way. He reached up to slowly brush the tip if her long ponytail. "Haven't you ever had boys flirt with you at school, or vie for your attention, Sango? You're pretty enough for them to have done it."

Blushing a little at the compliment, Sango shook her head. Urahara could detect a slight amount of bitterness in her tone, but it was well-hidden under disdain. She turned away, her eyes affixed on Miroku as he turned another page of his book. "No boys have ever taken an interest in me."

"Well, now you have two of them trying to get your attention." His smile became patient and wise when she looked up at him, surprised. His blue eyes were soft and he dropped his voice to a more private tone. "Miroku and I both like you, Sango. We both recognize that we can't really make you like one of us more, or fight ourselves to see who would ask you out first, so we thought that we would both continue being ourselves and that eventually you would make a decision yourself as to which one you like more. The other would have to abide by it." She was even more surprised when his cheeks begin to darken a bit. "Now that I say it out loud, though, I can't help but think that it sounds a little silly."

Sango pursed her lips. "It is silly! Urahara-sama, I know which one of you I like more, and…"

He placed a fingertip against her lips, silencing her. His face suddenly looked old and tired. "Sango. You may not put much stock in _his_ feelings, but this decision is more than just talking about some school-girl crush. There are feelings that can be hurt here, and friendships which may never be able to be healed once they've been injured. Are you going to stand there and tell me that you don't have any feelings at all for that man?"

Urahara withdrew his finger, and Sango glanced over at Miroku. She did feel something. It might not be the same thing she felt for Urahara—and it wasn't—but she pitied him, and she felt worried for him. She cared for his feelings and his welfare. Sango hung her head, hiding from Urahara.

He nodded. He understood. "Sango, this is a chance for you to get to know us both a bit better before you make a decision as to whether or not you might want to date us, to get to know us even more intimately. Both of us have our faults and our virtues. Take your time and listen to yourself. Don't just go clinging to old friendships or feelings because they _are_ old." He leaned over and kissed her forehead. Sensing that she needed something to cheer her up, he lifted her face gently and he winked at her. "Hey. Cheer up. If I want to win, I want to know that I won fairly and squarely, rather than just winning because I'm prettier. Understand?"

Sango managed to smile a little. "Yeah…"

* * *

"May I sit with you?"

Her hands felt clammy as she stood by Miroku. When he nodded, glancing up and offering her a smile, she slid into the seat next to him. He was silent, though she noticed he was no longer reading the open textbook before him. Miroku pulled off his glasses and rested them on the table by his coffee mug. Sango's cheeks darkened and she glanced down at her plate, poking a blob of something could have been Jell-O, but could have also been god only knew what.

"Don't you hate cafeteria food?"

Miroku smiled at her, and she heard him snicker a little. The sound caught her attention and she turned away from her food to look at him curiously. He waved the sound away. "Sorry. It's just… your idea of small talk. It's cute. But yes, in answer to your question, I hate cafeteria food. You're never quite sure of the freshness, or of who prepared the food, let alone what the hell it is you're eating. I'm surprised you're brave enough to have it."

"I'm surprised you're brave enough to drink their coffee," she pointed out, gesturing to the steaming mug with an empty fork. "Uncle Kakashi always says it tastes like cement and has the same consistency as it."

"Your uncle's a wise man," Miroku laughed. He rose his cup in a toast. Sango lifted her glass of milk, and they drank.

Setting her glass back down, she leaned over closer to Miroku, trying to see the textbook her was reading. "What's the book about? I felt a little bad coming over and bothering you. It looked like you were interested in it."

Miroku smiled and tilted the book so she could see it. "It is interesting, but as I like the present company, I think I can forgive you for interrupting me. The book will still be here later, and you won't. It's just my textbook from my religion class this year."

"You're _still_ studying?"

His smile wavered a little and he shrugged. She hadn't noticed until then that he hadn't changed out of his exercise clothes. He had just thrown on a dress shirt over the shirt he had worn.

"I guess we both have something in common, Sango. We both want to be the best, or one of the best. But I want to be the best at my school, in my field. So yes, I reread my textbooks during the summer. It lets me concentrate on remembering and recalling what I learned, continuing to keep the mental pathways open. I don't want to always be going to a textbook to check things. If I'm paying for my education, then I want it to be worth something, not to rely just on my textbooks. Anybody can do research. I want knowledge."

Her tone was surprisingly bitter. "I think we have more than just _one_ thing in common, Miroku."

Uncertain as to what she meant, he tried to find a new topic of conversation. He closed the textbook, giving Sango his undivided attention. Miroku smiled when he saw that she noticed, the color rising to her cheeks as she fixed her posture and began eating in a manner which people would consider "proper"—cutting things up into tiny bits and then chewing them thoroughly before swallowing. He leaned his arm on the table, wrapping his slender fingers around the steaming mug of coffee.

"Why didn't you tell me that you were such a cute tiger?"

Sango nearly choked on her food. Her brown-gold eyes were wide when she turned to him, and she turned so fast ghostly wisps of her hair escaped from her loose ponytail. "Pardon?"

He smiled and lifted his hand, feeling strands of her hair against the palm of his hand. It was an interesting sensation: touching, without really touching or feeling warmth and texture. "I saw you fighting Urahara this morning. You were both cats. It made me particularly glad that Ranma wasn't there with me. Myself, I like cats. Especially the wild ones. They have… a beauty and a presence that housecats have somehow lost. I've never seen anything at all like that before…"

His voice trailed off and she leaned his cheek against his hand, stopping playing with her hair. When he continued, he sounded distant. Sango had heard people use that tone before, but only in movies. "I'll admit it. You told me you were a shape-shifter, but somehow, I never really understood what that meant. Now I do. You're a tiger. Deep down, you're a tiger. But I had never expected that when you were a tiger, you were still you. You still moved the same way, and the expression in your eyes were the same. You weren't like normal tigers, like the kind I'd see in movies or documentaries when I was little. You were sleek and quiet. Not those big, bulky animals I've always seen. It was… it was really quite amazing. In fact, I think it really made me quite jealous."

Sango sputtered. "Jealous? What? Why?"

He lifted his head, looking at her for the first time since he had begun talking of her as a tiger. His blue eyes were deeper than normal. Half-closed and sly, they seemed endless and she could see he was telling her the truth. He was being honest and open with her, and the thought somehow made her squirm on the inside.

"You don't know just how special you are, do you? I know about you, Sango. You have a psychic power too, even if you won't tell me what it is. You've been trained to fight since you were little. I learned to fight from getting picked on at school for always being the smallest kid in the class. You had fam… you have this amazing power to be able to change your shape, to become even stronger and faster than you were before, and it is a beautiful shape. You're intelligent, and you have a wonderful partner. You're meticulous in everything you do. You never seem to make mistakes, and to top it all off, you're one of the prettiest girls I've ever met. From where I stand, the only thing wrong with you is that you don't seem to have the proper social skills your age. I can understand that. It's not like there are a lot of kids here to play with your own age."

Miroku smiled wryly and took another sip of coffee. "Then again, it's not like I have the best social skills, either. When I was a little kid, I didn't talk at all. It wasn't until my hormones kicked in that I really began to talk to girls, and start socializing."

"That I can believe," she teased. Sango shook her head and set down her fork. Miroku seemed to be in the mood to talk, and she was more than willing to listen. "What I can't believe is that you were ever picked on when you were a little kid."

He blinked innocently, and a smile began tugging on his lips. "Why not?"

Without the slightest hint of her normal blush, Sango gestured to him. "Look at you. You're… you've got a nice physique, and there aren't too many people who are taller than you. Ranma's shorter than you."

"Ranma's also a trained fighter, like you. His height was probably stunted from all the horse-stances he had to do when he was a kid."

Sango gave him an expression that said she was serious. Miroku sighed and shook his head. "I look like this _now_, but that's because I started taking self-defense classes, working out at school, and joining whatever club I could in high school. I also hit puberty. When I was a kid… you wouldn't have recognized me. I think the only thing that didn't change was the hair. My reading glasses weren't the right prescription, and large for my face, so I was always squinting behind them. I was the shortest male in all of my classes, until I began hitting puberty. My clothes rarely fit me properly. They were either to big and baggy, or they fit right in the chest and were too short in the sleeves. I was always reading when I was kid. I'd read anything I could get my hands on, front to back: comics, magazines, editorials, newspapers… sometimes, I'd steal a textbook from someone older than me and read it. When I got desperate, I'd even read my math textbook. And I hate math."

He winked at her and Sango smiled a little. Miroku continued, briefly pausing to scratch the base of his ponytail. He leaned back, becoming more comfortable. "Then, of course, I was doing so much reading that I skipped a grade. After that, most of the girls were taller than me too. I got picked on for that, and for reading so much. Bullies would come and take my books, rip them up, throw them in the mud, or just dangle them and goad me into trying to get it back. I was a stupid kid, Sango, deep down. I would fight them. I don't know why, looking back on it. Maybe I wanted to fight them, maybe it was just because I was angry, or maybe it was my empathy kicking in. They wanted me to fight, so I did it.

"I got pretty good at holding my own, considering that I was outnumbered and outweighed in most of these fights. I learned how to fight dirty. I always threw the first punch, or kick, so of course I got in trouble. The only thing I disliked about detention was that I'd be stuck in a room with the bullies. Of course, they blamed me for getting them into trouble. Eventually, I learned something…"

"What?" Sango leaned closer to him, enjoying his story. No, not so much the story. She enjoyed that he was opening up to her, letting her see a side of himself that the rest of the world had never known existed. "What did you learn?"

He was quiet for a long moment, staring at her. She could see him arguing with himself. Sango didn't think he was going to finish that though, but he did, because she wanted to know.

"I learned that if I did nothing, if I took it, they'd get bored of me. Of course, they'd wait for me to make the first punch, so I would take most of the blame. So I always threw the first punch, and then stopped. So long as when I went down I never tried getting back up, they wouldn't hit me anymore." His smile was wry and disturbing, colder than Sango had ever thought possible. "I think I spent most of my late childhood with my face down in the mud."

Her jaw dropped. "Miroku! That's horrible!"

"What else could I have done, Sango?" He shrugged his shoulders, as if he didn't care. The gesture was futile. Both of them knew that he did still care, otherwise he wouldn't have bothered to have tried—and failed—to hide it from her.

"If it makes you feel any better, it didn't last very long. It lasted until the spring. I was eleven. Old enough to take care of myself, I figured. I had everything all planned out. I wanted to find my way to Tibet, like those two German guys did during the Second World War. I'd live in safety there, and become a monk, and never lift a hand to fight again. I'd go to the extreme and get myself a broom to sweep bugs out of the way when I walked, because it wasn't fair that I killed things just from walking. I ran away from home. I was lost for a year."

"You ran away because you were getting beaten up?"

"And because of my psychic ability," he said, his eyes flashing briefly with something she couldn't identify. He tapped his head. "I'd been able to perceive things better than anyone else since I had been five years old, but after putting up with a fall and winter of beatings, and all the years of teasing before… I'd had enough of it all. I'd had enough of the things inside my head. Imagine, Sango, being picked on, scared, hungry, and cold, and being able to feel the hatred of the people around you as they shouted and called you names and struck you all because you were different? I'd enough of it."

She watched as he held the mug tighter, so tightly that Sango began to worry he'd break it, in fact. She touched his hand gently, prying his fingers loose. Before she knew it, he'd maneuvered his hand so they were holding hands.

"What happened next?"

Slowly, he smiled. "I was a smart kid, and I was learning how to use my powers. Whenever I could feel someone looking for me, I hid myself. I learned to hide myself really well. I knew about tracking dogs. I figured they would use them. I stuck to rivers, so I could hide my scent. I slept in piles of leaves and made little shelters out of trees. I had packed food and rationed it. I stole food when I could, from wherever I could, so I could keep the rations for when I would _really_ need it. I made it out of the city and across Japan, almost all the way to China. I stowed myself in a boat and I got caught. I think it was the smell I made, and the fact that I was covered in dirt and leaves while everyone else on the ferry was clean and nicely dressed."

Sango laughed, leaning closer to him. His grip on her hand tightened at the sound of her laugh. He didn't mind. He had meant for it to be funny. Her eyes danced as she stared at him, and he forgot to breathe.

"You need to laugh like that some more… I don't think I've ever heard you laugh like that before… it's gorgeous."

She smiled at him, and his heart thumped. Even her smile seemed different. It was as if… as if the Sango who always worried or tried to trick him was gone and she was just enjoying being with him. He watched as the color slowly rose to darken her cheeks and her dancing eyes skipped away from him shyly.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have laughed like that. It's just… you almost made it out of the country, and then you snuck onboard a ferry?"

"I meant for it to be funny. The subject was too depressing." He shrugged coolly, but he was smiling at her. He lifted his other hand to try and draw her back closer to him. There was something he wanted to tell her, and he wanted to do it now, while all the snide comments and cool detachments had vanished, and he wanted to look in her eyes to tell her.

He never made it. She turned of her own accord, and lifted her lips to hers. He was so surprised he didn't even have time to enjoy it. Sango kissed him, and then she drew back, her long lashes so close as she blinked that he could feel them on his cheek. She settled back in her seat, glancing around as if to see if the other patrons had noticed and were whispering. None of them were even looking their way.

"I'm sorry that that happened to you…"

"Don't be." Sango opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. "I mean it. Don't be sorry. It's in the past. There's nothing you can do to change it."

"I know," she sighed helplessly. "But…"

With a sigh, Miroku pulled her close, and kissed her in kind. Sango relaxed and kissed him back. After a long moment, she pushed him away, and he noticed her breathing was off. Miroku decided then that his day was going to be beautiful and perfect. With a whistle, he picked up his mug of coffee and said farewell. "I'd best go shower and make myself smell like a rose if we're to get any work done today. You know where to find me when you're done your breakfast, Miss Tora. Ta ta!"

With a wave, he disappeared from the cafeteria.

Yup. The day was going to be beautiful!

* * *

As Sango sat in the cafeteria, she found herself staring at where Miroku had been sitting, completely and utterly distraught. She felt like she was being pulled in a thousand different directions.

He admitted to trying to sleep with women. How much of the story he had just told her had been true? Had it just been a ruse?

She hated herself for thinking it. Didn't she trust him? But no matter how much she chided herself for being fickle and untrusting, it was the little things that made her convinced that he had been telling her the truth. It was the way his eyes looked, his expression, the tiny wavers in his voice that had made her believe him.

'So why did I feel so disappointed in myself?' She frowned over food, remembering the way he had been so absorbed by the book, the way that all of his attention had been focused on it. Every movement he had made had been graceful and precise. He didn't move like she or Ranma did, with the controlled balance and grace of someone who was aware of their bodies because it was a weapon. His was _expressive_, but she guessed that it could be a weapon too. If, for instance, those devoted and precise movements were turned towards a girl in an attempt to bed her… the girl didn't stand a chance. Miroku could make a rock feel like it was the center of his world.

'Even his kiss… god, that kiss! God, what would the sex be like?' She paused, disgusted, and pushed her breakfast away. 'I did not just think about Miroku and sex in the same sentence… urg…'

Before she had sat down for breakfast, Sango's world had been orderly. She had known who everybody was around her and she was certain of who she was and what she wanted. Now she wasn't quite so sure. Urahara was still Urahara, but Miroku… What a difference there was not only in the boy he had described, but between the man who had woken up with hope in his eyes and offering her comfort and the man who sought it now!

What concerned her most was that she could understand him. How many times had Sango been teased because she had no interest in boys when all the other girls were playing 'spin the bottle', getting called derogatory terms just because she wasn't maturing faster? And, oh, God! She shook her head as she remembered being sixteen and still not getting her period, stuffing her bra and trying to look more mature and getting _caught_!

At that point, Sango had thought that she could never return to school again, but Akane had merely pouted and demanded: "you're going to let me go to school all _alone_?" Sango had acquiesced, if a bit grudgingly.

The more she learned about Miroku, the more she admired and sympathized with him.

Leaning back in her chair, she smiled, touching lips that still throbbed. At the very least, Miroku had one thing going for him. He was a much better kisser than Urahara was.

* * *

By the time Miroku was done showering and getting dressed, he had changed his mind. The morning had started off waveringly, but kissing Sango had made it better. Now his day was back to crappy. Throwing another bloody Kleenex out, he leaned over the sink, wheezing. His whole face was red as he tried to get a hold of his breath. His coughing fit had been so bad that he was developing a rapidly growing headache and his throat ached. It hurt to breath. Miroku, despite everything that had happened to him, had never once had trouble breathing. Not even when he'd bruised his ribs in a fight had it hurt him to breath.

After his breathing was finally back to normal, Miroku decided that asphyxiation had to be one of the worst deaths imaginable. It gave him shudders to even imagine what it was like to know there was oxygen surrounding you, even tiny particles trapped in your clothes between your skin, and yet you were dying because your body wasn't getting any oxygen. It was covering your skin, and you were dying…

He shook the feelings away and groaned when someone knocked on the door. Miroku double checked to make sure that he looked presentable before he answered the door. There were a few small spots of blood on his Oxford shirt, but he could easily say that they were from shaving, and not from coughing so hard he'd rubbed his throat raw.

A thirteen year old boy stood at his door, holding a package. He seemed almost intimidated as he held it out. "Th… this came for you, sir."

"Um... thanks." He took the package and offered the boy a smile. Miroku had been about to offer the kid a piece of candy or something in thanks for brining up his mail, but the kid was running down the hallway before he had the chance. Suspicious of the package, he examined it carefully before he set it down on the desk. Judging from the way it was wrapped, it was a book, but it had to be one of the largest and heaviest books Miroku had ever seen!

Yarn kept the package closed. Tucked under the yarn was a letter. Miroku opened it and pulled out a single sheet of paper.

_Miroku,_

_I hope this gets to you safely. I spoke on the phone with you, but I wasn't sure I would get it mailed in time. They're on to me. I don't even know who they are, but they're after me! I can feel it!_

_I don't have much time. I want to mail this asap. The book will explain more, but I will tell you something no one else knows, except for possibly you. I knew your father. He was a good man, Miroku. A bit religious, but a good, decent man. You must never doubt that. We spoke once, when I was in Japan_ _when you were just a young child. For what it's worth, you look exactly like your father. But… your brother… he looked exactly like your mother. He did not work for the IBSP, and back then they did not have as much control as they do now. The human newspapers were full of attacks regarding people found with their hearts…_

_I am talking too much. Forgive me. With luck, I will be able to explain everything in person. If not, godspeed, Miroku._

_Sincerely,_

_Wufei_

_P.S. When you are finished, please return the book to the proper owner. The address is under the front flap. _

Miroku sat down in the chair with a thud. He letter dropped to the ground, floating to stare up at him, almost mockingly. He felt cold, and he could feel the tears slipping from his eyes. He didn't even know why he was crying.

When Sango found him after freshening up herself, he was still sitting at his desk. The lights on the bathroom were on, as was the desk lamp. Miroku was sitting motionless in his chair, staring at an old book laying on a wrinkled pile of brown packing paper. She approached him cautiously.

"Miroku?"

He turned, and forced himself to smile. He picked up the paper from the ground and slid it into his back pocket, moving the chair so she could sit down. Sango didn't notice that he was keeping the paper from her. To her it was just a piece of scrap on the floor and he was tidying it up for her. Sango sat down on the chair, gasping at the book.

"How old is this thing?"

"Ancient, from what I can tell." Miroku leaned over the chair, a hand braced on the desk. His excited breath stirred Sango's hair when he spoke. She didn't notice the tear-streaks on his face, or the way his voice seemed unused. "It's the book Wufei sent us. I haven't had the courage to open it yet."

Sango looked up at him, puzzled. "Why not? From what you were telling me in the cafeteria, I would think that there wouldn't be a book you couldn't wait to get your hands on."

He stared at her a second, and then shook his head. "Sorry, Sango. I'm an idiot. You can't read the front cover. I can. It's an older form of writing. It's um… well, it's a lot like a mixture of Chinese and Japanese. It has words that aren't used to day, old grammar and syntax… it's a bitch to read, but…"

"But you can?" she asked incredulously.

Miroku frowned down at her. "I had to. I focus on religious history, remember? To find the proper primary documents for my paper, I had to learn these things, otherwise I'd be stuck with translations… Look, it's like Latin in America, okay? Yes, it can be read, but not a by a wide number of people. Some of them you can read too, the ones that are closer to... oh, forget it. The title says that it's a book of demonology, okay? It's a book about demons and how to summon them. I don't want to open it because a lot of the signs are there…"

"Are for protection," Sango finished. She smiled up at him. "I may not be able to read it, Miroku," she explained at his surprised expression, "but I can still look at the pictures. I recognize some of these symbols. They haven't seemed to change much. They've just become more refined. A lot of these are on some the shrines we see at festivals. So why not open it? Are you afraid that you might accidentally unleash a demon, or something?"

He rolled his eyes. "Nothing so dramatic. People put signs of warning and protection on things for a reason, Sango. I'm scared to open it because I don't think I want to see what's in it… even if I am curious. I mean… god… Here."

Unable to explain himself, a very frustrated Miroku reached around Sango and undid the clasp which bound the large book shut. Then he freaked out, dusting off his hands. "Damn it. We can't do it like this. This is an ancient document! Sango, we need white cotton gloves, and non-UV light, and something to control condensation and temperature…"

She reached an arm around the back of the chair to follow him as he paced. "Urahara's got them." He gave her a curious expression and she shrugged. "Some of the things he deals with have to stay regulated at certain temperatures or at varying levels of moisture, and cotton gloves help to keep down static electricity, or something weird like that. I'm sure he'd let us use the facility. He even has one of those hand-held scanner things, so if you want, we can scan the pages we need for later reference."

His smile was so broad and happy it was unbelievable. For a moment, Sango thought he was going to march over and hug her or kiss her again. Instead, he blinked and leaned over to look at the legs she was hiding under his desk. "You're wearing jeans… and a t-shirt…."

"Yes. Your point is?"

"I thought… I thought you were like an X-Files Barbie doll or something. You came equipped with nothing but business-wear and a 9mm Glock."

"Oh, very funny. Help me wrap this thing back up. We'll take it down to Urahara and begin analyzing it right away."

Miroku arched an eyebrow. "You can't really translate it, but you're going to help anyway?"

She flashed him a dazzling smile. "Of course. I may not be able to read it, but I can still scan, run equipment, and look at the pictures. You may be so busy translating, you may miss something vital in a picture." She winked at him. "Besides, if I didn't do anything else, I'd feel useless. This investigation seems to have run into a brick wall. I don't like feeling useless, Miroku."

He took the book from her, unburdening her arms. "It looks like we have yet another thing on common, Sango."

* * *

To Be Continued


	23. Miroku's Fathers

AN: I do not own Shabranigdo. Interestingly, however, he appears here in mostly his anime-self. He's from Slayers, and is therefore owned by the creators of Slayers, and in that he is the Demon Lord of Nightmares and calling him to the earth from the astral-place will destroy the world. To find out how this is similar to what he's like in Nihil Credo, read on!

Chapter Twenty-Three: Miroku's Fathers

Miroku was sitting in the cafeteria, daring to drink another mug of their coffee. He swore he was becoming addicted to it, but it made him feel stable, and it made his medicine taste better. When his watched beeped, he sighed and dutifully swallowed another pill, chasing it down with a gulp of steaming hot coffee. It burned his throat, but the caffeine was glorious.

As he sat, Ranma came and sat down at the table with him. He face seemed tight as he waited for Miroku to speak. Eventually, even Ranma was tired of being quiet. He spoke up, starting off with something light-hearted. "You're a brave man to drink that coffee."

"You're not the first one to point that out," Miroku said. He was trying to keep up a good face. Ranma could see through the smile to the apprehension squatting treacherously underneath it.

Though at times a little slow, perhaps even verging on idiotic, he was a good friend, and an old one. Both of them knew that Miroku's light voice and smart-aleck comments were not hiding the truth.

"I don't feel well," he finally admitted, sighing and rubbing his head.

"Isn't the medicine supposed to be helping with that?" He paused, but Miroku made no reply. Ranma arched an eyebrow. "_How_ don't you feel well?"

Miroku's answer was quiet. He was staring at his mug, his long fingers wrapped around it to absorb the warmth. "Sango kissed me today."

Saotome Ranma had known Miroku for a long time. He could still remember when Miroku had been seventeen and had come home grinning triumphantly because he had lost his virginity. The idiot had not stopped smiling for at least a week, and had taken every moment he could to talk about it. His attitude had almost disgusted Ranma, but his attitude now was for more concerning. Miroku was not the type of man to be dismayed by a kiss. The fact that Miroku could go to one extreme to the other was almost impossible… unless…

"Was it bad?" That was the only thing Ranma could think of to rationalize Miroku's attitude. He knew Miroku had the hots for Sango. Maybe if she turned out to be a cold fish it would explain why he was so…

"No!" Miroku sounded shocked. He smiled, almost dreamily. "God, it was anything but! It was… wow. I mean… _wow_!" His brows drew together and he became confused. "I'd love to do it again, and that's what bothers me." Miroku lifted his mugs and wetted his lips before taking a sip. The coffee mug softened the next word Ranma heard. "Eve."

Ranma arched an eyebrow. "What?"

He set the mug back down, staring at his friend. "I really liked her, Ranma. Dead less than a week and here I am, fawning over another girl. I feel… horrible about it."

Exhaling slowly, Ranma took his time responding. He was treating on highly volatile ground. Ranma doubted that he would be able to tread lightly for very long. He didn't have the patience to deal with these kinds of problems. Miroku did.

"I don't think that Eve would have minded. At the very least, she was your friend. I'd think she'd want you to be happy." Miroku wasn't agreeing, so Ranma continued, patting Miroku on the back, somewhat reservedly.

"Look, Miroku, I love you like a brother, man. Not that it necessarily means much with my family being the freaks they are, but they love you like a son, too. Please, don't take it the wrong way. You have to accept that Eve didn't like you. She counted you as a friendly rival, but she wasn't interested in your romantically. Don't keep mourning over this. If Sango's opening up to you, then take my advice and go for it. A girl like Sango wouldn't kiss you unless she liked you—you taught me that yourself. You also taught me that you only get a shot at a girl like that once. So take my advice and go for it. God, take your own advice!"

He paused again. Miroku seemed to be considering his suggestion. Ranma decided not to pursue the issue anymore. He changed topics. "What's the other thing that's gotten your knickers in a twist?"

From out of his pocket he withdrew the letter Wufei had sent to him. When he passed it to Ranma, Ranma couldn't help but notice that Miroku's hand was shaking. After he took the note, Miroku quickly grasped his mug again, trying to hide his trembling limb.

Ranma read the letter. When he put it down, he understood why Miroku's hand had been shaking. He hadn't meant to copy Miroku's earlier words when he said, "Wow. Just… _wow_."

"He knew my father…"

"Not if he called your dad a good man, he didn't!"

Miroku gave Ranma a patronizing look. "If he did, he knew a side different than from what I remember, Ranma. He could have told me what he was really like. He could… he could have told me my last name, given me a bit of a sense of who I _am_, Ranma! He might have known if I had more family out there! He could… he did tell me what he looked like. I look exactly like my dad." This was not a sentence said in awe. It was simply stated, like no more than a side comment on the weather. "He could have told me _so_ much, Ranma!"

His friend didn't quite know what to say or do when he saw tears starting to fall and roll down Miroku's cheeks. Sure, Miroku had always been the more emotional of the two, but Ranma could never remember his friend crying before! Ranma tried to comfort him. Miroku, ashamed of his tears, tried to hide his face in his hands.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't worry, man." Ranma nudged his friend. "Come on. Cheer up. Tell me more about this kiss…"

* * *

Directly after Ferio had punched Kakashi, he had regretted it. He didn't so much regret the fact that he had struck the other man—in his mind it was completely justified—but rather, he regretted getting caught. He was well aware that there would be repercussions. On the one hand, there would be his lovely wife who would no doubt have something to say in the matter, and Ferio couldn't blame her. His superior, Sesshomaru, would also have to say something.

At the time, he couldn't decide which was worse. However, when he found himself sitting in Sesshomaru's cold office, his hands sticking to the black leather chair, and Sesshomaru sitting in front of him, he decided that Sesshomaru was hardly the lesser of two evils. With that sharp nose and gold eyes, he could make _anyone_ feel uncomfortable. Not even Rin's presence, fast asleep on the leather couch in the spacious office, was enough to lighten the dark, dismal air hanging like acrid smoke in Sesshomaru's room.

"You're in serious trouble, de Forest," Sesshomaru said coldly. He lifted his hands and leaned them on the table, resting his chin upon his folded hands in an almost feminine, graceful manner. The silver hair which gently floated over his shoulder like silver water certainly didn't help the movement appear any less beautiful. "You struck a fellow officer."

"If you pardon my saying so, sir, Kakashi deserved it." Ferio was surprised at the gruffness of his own voice. He was obviously still angry about the comments Kakashi had made, and it was understandable. He simply had not allowed himself to acknowledge that he was still angry about it.

Sesshomaru's left eyebrow arched with interest. He had not been expecting the obviously restrained anger coming from Ferio. He was normally such a relaxed and quiet man, much like his wife. What surprised him more was the fact that the ever-responsible Ferio would actually bring himself to say something other than a polite 'yes, sir' and take his punishment with dignity. Curious as to what could get Ferio's feathers ruffled, Seshsomaru said only a few words in a casual tone. "What did he say?"

Ferio fidgeted in the seat. "Well, first he said that Miroku was irresponsible. He was a bit mad—okay, he was furious with Miroku, because Miroku had been the last one to have seen Sango before she went missing." Seshsomaru nodded to show he understood and Ferio should continue. "When Kakashi found out, all of his anger and frustration was directed at him. I'm a father, sir. I can understand. If my son had been missing and Sango were in Miroku's position, I would have been angry at her, too, but Kakashi went too far. At first he had said things like Miroku was irresponsible, and dumb. That's when I came on the scene."

"And that was when you punched him?"

"No sir." Ferio shook his head, his face turning a bit red. "I just stepped in between them, trying to distract Kakashi. I didn't want him yelling things like that at Miroku. Even if the anger he felt was understandable, it didn't make the things he was saying acceptable." He glanced up at the man at the desk and saw that Sesshomaru understood, so he continued. "So Kakashi began yelling at me, sir. But he was still yelling about Miroku. He started saying things like I had done a bad job training them, that he was a failure, that I was a bad father-figure for Miroku, and that… that things would have been better if Miroku never had been adopted by Fuu and I."

He paused, emotional, and Sesshomaru again inquired. "So that was when you hit him?"

Ferio let out a short, bitter laugh. "No, sir! I wanted to at that point. God, I wanted too. Then he looked… ah, Miroku was behind me, you see, listening to the whole thing. Kakashi looked behind me to Miroku, and he… he looked right at him and he said…" Ferio swallowed hard and his gold eyes avoided Sesshomaru's. He didn't want the inexpressive leader of the IBSP to see how emotional he still was about the situation. His voice was small, but full of anger when he finished. "He looked right at Miroku, and he said that Miroku… was… was negligent and… and destructive and stupid and… and just like his father."

At that even Sesshomaru let out a hiss of breath which could only be described as deadly. His gold eyes flashed warningly. Kakashi had really stepped out of bounds on that one. He stared ahead a moment. "You're still going to be punished. What you did was totally out of line…"

"Yes, sir."

"…but so was what Kakashi said. I'll talk to him next, and make sure he's well aware of the implications of that statement."

"If you pardon me speaking out of turn, sir," Ferio said. "I don't think Kakashi would have said that unless he knew what it meant. He was out to make people hurt, because he was hurting too. Misery loves company, they say. He knew what it meant. No one ever compares my son to his birth father, Sesshomaru," he finished darkly.

Sesshomaru, much to Ferio's surprise, smiled, but it was grim. "If I had been the one to adopt Miroku, I would have punched him for saying it too."

* * *

After the hours Miroku had spent dutifully scanning each and every page in the book with the small hand-held scanner, he wasn't even looking at it anymore. It had become a matter of repetition: scan the page, wait for Sango to say that she had gotten it before he turned to the next page and scanned it as well. Sango watched him scan another page, leaning on the computer desk in the small clean room. Outside of it, Urahara lounged in a chair, Yoichiro curled up on his lap, and Ranma and Akane talking to him. Inside the clean room, there was just Sango and Miroku. It felt like they were in a separate universe.

Regarding Miroku under a hidden gaze, Sango again couldn't help but notice how much concentration he put into his work. It was… god! Sango couldn't recall anyone who had the capability to become devotedly attached to their work with the single-mindedness Miroku did!

Turning back to the computer, she was about to clear the page and let Miroku start scanning the next one, when two characters caught her eye. The first was 'heart'. The second was 'eye'. Sango couldn't read much else on the page, unfortunately. She paused. "Miroku?" She glanced over her shoulder at him. "What's this page talking about? I can't read anything except for 'hearts' and 'eyes'.

"Hm?" He set the small scanner down on the metal table and then stood up. His white-gloved hands gently touched the paper has he translated it out loud, slowly. "Shabranigdo. Demon Lord of Nightmares." He appeared somewhat intrigued and continued to translate. Sango moved closer to him, close enough to stand beside him and watch his cotton-gloved hands on the old, musty-smelling paper. "To summon such a powerful demon, a sacrifice must be made of a willing heart, in the form of His Lord's most hated enemy. It takes vast amounts of power to hold open the doors for Him. To See the Portal, the Eyes of a Seer. To Appeal to His Lord, the Heart of a Monk. To make it Fruitful, the…" Miroku frowned, rather disgusted and continued. "To make it Fruitful, the Seeds of Hidden Clan. To Sate his Thirst, Blood of those whom He Hates. To Give him form, a Body."

He stopped, his eyes scanning down the rest of the page. "I can't really read the rest of it. It's like nothing I've ever seen before. It seems to be an incantation to open a door between different realms. Sango?"

Beside him, Sango was pale. Her fingers shook. He reached out and took them. She was as cold as ice. He stripped off his gloves and began to rub feeling back into her fingers. Her jaw was tight to keep her jaw from shaking.

"Miroku," she finally said, haunted eyes turning up to his calm ones. "This is it. This is what Wufei wanted us to find. I… don't you see? We know the people who captured Hitomi were summoners. Look at what they need! Blood… they took Eve's blood. 'The Eyes of a Seer'? They took Hitomi's eyes! They took Wufei's heart, and he was a monk! Now… now all they need is a body, and some sort of a sacrifice."

He didn't like it all one bit. He knew she was right. The others had noticed some sort of commotion in the room and were slowly entering, enough to hear what Sango was saying.

"Someone is trying to summon a higher demon, one of the oldest in the world! He… he…"

Miroku's eyes narrowed. "Sango? Are you trying to tell me you know something about this demon? This Shabranigdo?"

Though Sango nodded, it was Urahara who answered. "All demons do. He's supposed to be a myth." He felt three pairs of eyes turn and look at him curiously. With a sigh, he began the tale.

"Long ago, back when humans were just beginning to thrive and come into their own, the demons were already strong. The demons were divided into clans, and then into tribes, and each clan had their own leader. That much we know his true. Some of the clan leaders still exist, or their descendents do." He slowly reached up and took his hat, ruffling his pale hair.

"Most of the demons lived more or less well with the humans. Yes, they prayed on them, but that was nature back then. We ate them, they were our form of subsistence, and they in turn killed us for food, weapons, hell, sometimes even shelter. I've heard stories of humans living in tents made of stretch demon hide." The lines of his lips pulled tightly here, not liking the image at all. "But the demons were still evolving. Some, like the shapeshifters, learned to become human and adapted to hide in their midst. Others did the same, by taking human form, though they became oddly beautiful and at times, some strange mixture of male and female attractiveness.

"But there was one type of demon who became…" He searched for the right word. "Cruel, I suppose. They changed to look human—most of them, and began living off of humans, more so than before. They learned how to tap into wells of human power: emotion, psychic imprints, sexuality, blood, hatred, malice… if humans had it, then they figured out a way to exploit it. You know the stories of ghosts who lived off of human energies until the human dies? That's their descendents…"

Akane interrupted. "Vampires, too. They feed off of blood. And succubi feed off of sex. Oh, and mindflayers feed off of psychic outputs!" She smiled proudly when Urahara nodded.

"They are all descendent from the demons who emerged in this time, when the humans began to outnumber us. They mostly evolved to hide themselves in human disguise and became like parasites. They couldn't feed off of anything else but humans. The leader of their clan was said to be Shabranigdo, the father of all these creatures. He evolved the power to even turn humans into half-demons, so that he could bid them do his power—which was to fight over the other clans to control the humans, because they needed them the most. Shapeshifters had learned to live off of animals, as had many other demons. They began to see themselves as protectors of humanity, who were just beginning to learn. They were starting to use philosophy, to think and rationalize, to become sapient in a way which no other species, save the magical demons, had done before. The demons wanted to protect it, because there was finally someone like them in the world, and they were happy."

The others looked confused. They had never heard anything like this before. Sango, when she had been growing up, had heard it from Urahara. He had taught her everything he knew about demonic history, and as he was fully demon, he knew a lot. She tried to explain it in terms they could understand. "It's like… wolves. You prey on wolves for food, and they prey on you for food. And then they start becoming numerous and so you start learning to hide yourselves as wolves so that you don't stand out. And then, as you start to penetrate into their midst, you discover this whole other side to them you never knew existed. You discover that they have families, and kinship. You discover laughter, that they have feelings, like you, and that they are encouraged to let it flourish. You discover that they are developing fire, and things like music, art, and culture. And then, as you watch them and you realize all of this, you find that you can't feed off of them anymore. They have become precious to you. Because they are just like you."

Urahara nodded. "The demons and the humans have something in common. Some… higher state of consciousness that allows for the development of things all their own: hierarchies, language, society." He shook his head, a small smile on his face. "The list goes on. But Shabranigdo threatened to destroy it. The other clans, working together and at the cost of many lives, opened the door back into their own realm and fought him into it. The attack was held by a female clan leader of astounding power. She dragged him in, and held him there, until she herself was returned to this world, about… oh, around the time the IBSP began forming. Most of his followers were dragged in with him. And that was when the story ends."

There was silence in the room. Ranma spoke first. "So if this guy comes back…"

Sango answered him. "War, for one. The clans will rally and try to cage him again, and the humans will be caught in the middle. We will have trouble keeping ourselves a secret from the humans. When that happens, they'll fight too, only they'll fight everybody. Even other humans. Paranoia. Lawlessness. Like… like the goddamn Spanish Inquisition and a freaking World War rolled together."

"Well, we still have some time," Akane pointed out, trying to sound optimistic. "And if he's a demon, they still need to find a body, right? So that's not going to be easy to find. How many people would want to have their bodies taken over by a demon?"

Urahara arched an eyebrow. "If you were an Englishman, would you want to be the reincarnation of King Arthur? How about Socrates if you're a thinker? Monet? Descartes? Nobunada? People will be standing in line to offer themselves as sacrifices to him…"

Ranma's voice was bitter. "Well, then. There…."

"Wait. Akane?" Urhara looked at her quizzically. "How did you know they needed a body?" He didn't know Miroku had just read that out loud, for he and Akane had been in the other room. They hadn't heard what had been said. To Urahara, Akane seemed to have pulled this information from thin air. It was a thought which distressed him. What she said distressed him more.

"I was talking to Rukia-sama about it. She said that she was a demon and that Ichigo summoned her and brought her back, giving her a whole new body and thus freeing her." She blinked innocently. "Did I misunderstand?"

Urahara very nearly stumbled over his words. "Ah no. You understood it perfectly."

Now quite irate that he had been interrupted, Ranma continued. "As I was saying! We don't know who could something like this. But who do know someone who can. I say there's only one thing we can do right now, and that's print out the page and go see her. Kagome. She's a witch, right? Even if she's not in a coven which deals with summoning, she may know others who do."

Akane beamed at him. "Ranma, I could kiss you right now."

The poor boy suddenly paled. "It's okay, you don't really… argh!" He was pulled off balance by Akane as she suddenly leaned up and placed a kiss on his cheek. When he pulled away, his face was as red as his shirt, but he appeared pleased.

"Sango, print it off. And send a copy to my email bin. The laptop and printer are upstairs in my room. I'll run up there and make a translation of what I can. I don't know if Kagome can read this or not." Miroku was already out and one his way before she could respond.

They moved with a quick speed. Sango only paused once, when she realized Urahara was somewhat dazed. She leaned over and placed a hand on his forehead, worried about him. "You look a little sick. Why don't you go lie down or something, Urahara?"

"Your concern is touching, Sango." He took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles before letting it slide away. "I'm fine. I'm just… tired."

He'd lied to them, and he hated himself for it. Miroku had no idea how right he had been when he had asked Urahara if he was too old for Sango! He was far too old for her—about eight thousand years too old for her. He had been there, and he had fought alongside friends and family against Shabranigdo. There was more to the story, but that had been how he had told the tale for the past eight thousand years. If this case kept up any longer, then those for kids would find out much more than they had bargained for when they took up the case.

For one, there was the matter of Shabranigdo's powers. To make him weak enough to fall into the portal, they had stripped him of his powers and hidden them away. No one was supposed to know where it was. It was top secret information—if the information even still existed!

One thing was certain. This summoner—these summoners—where certainly closer to bringing back the Lord of Nightmares than they had been last time they had tried…

* * *

To be continued...


	24. The Facts

AN: The Red Priest is also a character from Slayers. Therefore, he is not mine, as I do not own Slayers… actually, I do, but I'm not the creator. I just own the box set… and I must get Slayers Premuim! In other news, happy 2006 everyone, and thank you for the reviews! Nihil Credo has now surpassed The Blooded in the number of reviews, and it still isn't done yet! (_kisses to all_)

Chapter Twenty-Four: The Facts

Miroku's heart was pounding as he walked into his room. It concerned him and he rubbed unconsciously at the skin over his heart, wondering if he was out of shape. It was a little painful, different from anything he had ever felt before. It felt… cold. His skin was breaking out into goose bumps and he clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering.

Miroku was heading to the washroom. He stopped, feeling as if he had struck a brick wall. He fell back, curling against his bed, his hands gripping his ankles as he curled up into a ball. He let out a choked sob, realizing that tears were running down his face. He knew that pain now, thought it had been years since he felt it. He was heart broken. He was lonely. Not the kind of lonely Hitomi had been. This was hopelessness. And he was terrified, though he didn't know why.

His nose itched, smelling cigarette smoke. His tears were bothersome, and he couldn't stop them. He tried to lift his hands to dry his cheeks, but he couldn't. They felt heavy. The feeling had become familiar to Miroku. Chains. Manacles. This time, when he sobbed, it was not because of the feelings in his heart. It was for himself, because he knew what was coming.

Or at least he thought he did. He was expecting the pain, but it didn't come. Instead, invisible hands twisted and pulled at Miroku. It was stronger than ever before, to the point where he could see where invisible fingers were pulling at his clothes. They wrestled him to the ground, and he fought it. He felt like his skin was burning from their touch. Another sob escaped his shaking lips. He felt like he was five years old—traitorous, traitorous thought!

This was a helplessness he had not felt since he had been a little boy. It scared him, more frightening than the _kinderstod_ or his worst nightmare.

Because it had been real.

His shaking arms, weighted down as they were, could not fight for very long. The shaking muscles soon collapsed with fatigue. He was cowering beside his bed, hands held above his head by a ghostly presence. His heart was pounding. His blue eyes were locked on the ceiling, but he couldn't see it. He couldn't recognize it. Lights, like those in a surgery room, blinded him. He could feel rock beneath him, chips and sharp edges digging into his skin. He could hear chanting, but it was in a foreign language.

There was no warning when the searing pain ran down his chest in a slow, torturous path. It sliced him from neck to navel. His clothes ripped in a straight line. The tears rolled faster down his cheeks with the pain. He bit his lip to keep from crying out again. He was a grown man, not a little boy, and this wasn't real! It was just a vision! A _vision_!

He shook his head, trying to make it go away. Blood ran down his mouth from a split lip. He could hear screaming. He could hear a lot if it. The voices were muffled, but they sounded… they sounded so…

His skin felt like it was burning. He couldn't smell cigarette smoke anymore. All he could smell was something burning. He could smell flesh and fabric burning. It churned his stomach. He suddenly felt very tired, as he could feel soft fingers brushing back his sweat-dampened skin.

_Drink up, Miroku. I know, I know, honey. The milk tastes sour. I'll go out tomorrow and buy some fresh milk, just for you. I promise._

He could hear his mother's voice. Her touch seemed to hide the pain. The crackling of fire hid the voices still chanting in their odd, faraway tones. There wasn't anymore screaming, just the crackle of fire.

It scared him.

His mother's voice shook, trembling. _Good boy, Miroku._ His hair fell into his eyes as his mother's fingers brushed it, as she always did as Miroku fell asleep. _I have to go and give your brother his bottle now. You are a good boy, Miroku. The sweetest little angel ever._ He felt warm lips, cool to his burning skin, press against his cheek.

It was a reoccurring nightmare for Miroku. He couldn't help but remember the last time he saw his mother, as she sat beside him and brushed his hair, whispering him to sleep. This time, however, she told him something he had almost forgotten.

_I won't let them get you._

The vision ended, abruptly. Only the chain remained, keeping him tied to the ground as he lay there, quietly crying. His body shook as if with cold, yet he could feel the sweat that covered him like a guilty layer of grime. He was scared, painful memories trying to surface in his mind, and yet he was happy. His dream had not let him remember the events after his mother's goodbye kiss.

Eventually, the chains lifted. Miroku dragged himself into the washroom for a quick shower to hide the tears from his companions.

He'd tell them about the vision after he figured out what the hell it meant.

* * *

They didn't mean to look like a posse. In the first place, four people were hardly enough to be considered a posse. Secondly, Sango and Miroku wanted back up in case—however unlikely it may be—Kagome turned out to be the murderer herself. So when Sango and Miroku unanimously decided they should be the ones to go and see Kagome, as they had already met her once, Ranma and Akane unanimously decided that they should go in with them. 

No, what made them look like a posse was not their size, but their _attitudes_. Everyone was going in expecting a fight of some kind, for various reasons. Miroku was already planning how to get around Kagome's vacuous expression, Akane and Ranma were expecting a physical fight or some kind of a trap, and Sango was bracing herself for not only what would no doubt be dim-witted conversation, but a vapid personality to boot.

With a mental sigh, Sango registered that perhaps she was being too hard on the woman. As she was pushing the door bell, tapping her foot lightly and clutching a nondescript briefcase in her left hand, she told herself that she was most definitely being too hard on Kagome. She had been a pretty, sweet woman, kind enough to offer a drink to strangers, and…

The door opened, and Kagome stood on the threshold. She appeared confused a moment, as she found four people looking all rather angry on her doorstep. The smile she had been wearing vanished when she registered their anger. Then she spotted Miroku and her blue eyes welled up with tears and she smiled again.

"Miroku!" Her voice sounded painfully perky to Sango ears, and she felt her muscles tighten when Kagome launched herself at Miroku. The male, tired and hardly expecting to be pounced by an adult, _married_ woman, reached out as if to stop her and only succeeded in holding her in a hug. Though it did help to break the attack, somewhat.

Her face buried in Miroku's neck, Kagome laughed gleefully. Her voice came out in small gasps, and when she lifted her head, she was smiling, but her lips were far too close to Miroku's for Sango's comfort. "Oh, you're all right! I was _ever so _worried when we had to call for the ambulance and they took you away!"

To his credit, Miroku slowly pulled her arms away, guiding them down from around his shoulders with gently touches, slipping his hands up to hers. At first Sango felt the overwhelming feeling of anger when she saw it—more directed at Miroku than Kagome—but realized the practicality of his actions. He had managed to untangle himself from her, but not without making her feel insulted or unwanted. Now he continued to touch her and ignore everyone else, turning their conversation intimate. So long as he could keep her enraptured, both Sango and Miroku knew there was very little Kagome would not answer.

"Miss Kagome, your concern is touching, but we've come here on business, and haven't time to spare for pleasantries." Her blue eyes slipped away to look at everyone else, and when she turned back to Miroku, she was worried. Sango noticed she held his hands tighter, frightened.

"But why _here_?"

Sango knew that tone. Kagome, bless her, was worried about herself and her husband, as if they actually thought that Inuyasha or Kagome could be criminals! But then… didn't they? Sango had almost laughed at the idea of this fuzzy-brained trophy wife being capable of cutting someone open while still alive until she reminded herself that at this point, Kagome was their main suspect.

"May we come in, Miss Kagome?" Miroku slipped a hand away from hers and gestured toward the open door of the house. "It would perhaps be wiser to talk of this indoors, and more comfortable for you as well." He changed his hands so that somehow her arm ended up in his, and he escorted Kagome into her own house. He didn't pay attention to the decorations or the scent of potpourri hanging subtly in the air. His entire focus was on Kagome. Miroku's eyes picked up every change on her delicate, elfin face. He glanced only once at Sango.

She nodded, understanding perfectly well. Sango passed her briefcase to Akane. "Miss Kagome?" she interrupted. Kagome turned to look back at her as she slipped out of her shoes. Her blue eyes were wide and frightened, yet they seemed to be almost clouded over. "While Miroku talks to you, would you mind if I looked around at all?"

Kagome took her time in answering, fighting against the haze in her eyes. She seemed to be being torn in different ways at all. Had Sango been able to ask Miroku, he would have explained that Kagome was scared, looking for safety, but at the same time, trying to be the proper hostess she had been raised to be. Finally, the fear won out and her voice was wavering when she answered Sango.

"You're trying to find something to place my husband at the scene of some crime, aren't you?" Despite the soft tones, frightened as they were, her phrase had been perfectly accusatory. Her blue eyes narrowed and she seemed to return more to herself. "Well, I won't let you take him from me!"

"Kagome." Miroku's voice was entrancing. Sango wondered how he had been able to groom himself to have such a voice that was slow and clear, and also intimate. Kagome turned to him, gulping, as the color rose to her cheeks. He continued, touching his heart with his fingertips. "I assure you that we are not here to search your house or to accuse anyone of anything."

"But…" Now she was confused. Her eyebrows drew together. "But Inuyasha's a half-demon. I know how all of you think, you IBSP people… oh yes, I know all about you!You act as if he doesn't have any controlor manners, as if he's always fighting against himself to remain sane because… because of genetics! A half-demon is always the perfect scapegoat, isn't it?"

He continued, unwavered. "We are not here to try and prove your husband of doing anything, Kagome. We are here for you, and for your help. We found spells, and we would like you to help us understand what they entail. That is all. Miss Tora wants to look around because anything she finds would help to prove you _and_ your husband innocent of anything involved in our case." He paused, watching her beginning to cave in. Miroku decided to give her the final nudge. "If you don't allow Sango to look around, we can always leave and return with a search warrant and papers for your arrest, Miss Kagome. If you don't want to help us, we will have to interrogate you."

Miroku walked away from her dismissively. Sango watched as Kagome sagged, defeated. Miroku didn't get past three steps when she turned around.

"You are all more than welcome in my house. Miss Tora, feel free to look around. The only place I would ask you not to go is in the basement. I was in the middle of doing laundry when you arrived, and I would feel awkward knowing that somebody saw… well, you know."

Sango did know. Kagome was ashamed of the mess of laundry which would no doubt be in the basement, as well as the idea of somebody looking through their things. In particular, lingerie. Sango offered Kagome a rare smile and winked at her teasingly.

"I assure you, Miss Kagome; your underwear is in no way connected to this case at all."

* * *

Miroku, Akane, and Ranma all went into the living room to talk to Kagome. Sango went upstairs, scratching at her nose. Miroku might not have noticed the potpourri, but Sango did. It itched her nose. How did Inuyasha stand it? 

Glancing at the flowered wall paper on the walls of the stair well, and then at the pink carpet, Sango groaned. It reminded her of the living room of Akane's grandma, the one who always kept mints stale and old on the coffee table and had plastic lining the precious flowered fabric of her couch. The decorations in Kagome's house were blatantly female. How did Inuyasha stand any of it? He'd stick out in the house like a sore thumb!

The first door held the washroom. Sango was quick in examining it. Toothbrushes, towels, pare toilet paper, two razors, two different types of shaving cream, and enough dental floss to build a bee's nest. Nothing was out of ordinary—not even the copious amount of dental floss. It was hard brushing fangs. Everything was kept neat and tidy in the medicine cabinet. If it weren't for water still leaking from the faucet in the shower, the room would look brand new. Again, she noticed the flowers and lace on the wallpaper, and the wicker swan holding the spare toilet paper. With the exception of the Gillete shaving cream hidden behind the mirror, there was no trace of a male influence. Sango sniffed, smelling only the air freshener.

It didn't even _smell_ like Inuyasha had been in this room. What was going on here? Didn't Inuyasha live in his own house?

The next room was the spare room. Sango didn't even looking through it. The carpet was thick, and there was no trace of footsteps in the room at all. Kagome hadn't even dusted in the room recently.

Beside that was the master bedroom. Sango was almost disgusted when she walked in and saw the four-poster bed was neatly made, the pillows arranged symmetrically to perfection and already fluffed for use. She sarcastically wondered if Kagome had run out mints to put on the pillows. The carpet was dusty blue, but hardly masculine. The furniture was all light wood, and the bedspreads were dark blue with yellow moons and stars—childish.

The dressers were easily to distinguish. Inuyasha's was bare, while Kagome held all her makeup in neatly arranged piles and several crystalline bottles filled with perfume. It wasn't even a dresser. It was one of those old pieces of Western furniture, where you could sit and apply makeup. Sango sat at it, trying to think like Kagome. She would have spent a lot of time here. The fabric of the seat was wearing thin from use. If she had something to hide, where would she hide it? Somewhere easily accessible… like… like the top drawer on the right.

Opening the drawer, Sango was dismayed when she found it was full of pictures. She lifted an eyebrow questioningly. Kagome seemed like the type of woman to have a jewelry box hiding there, or nail polish, a file, something to go with the refined, painted personality she had. Instead, it was an unorganized pile of pictures. Sango lifted one, inspecting it. It was a picture on a camping trip. Kagome didn't seem much older than she was now, smiling and laughing at the camera. In the middle stood a young man several years younger. The resemblance was enough to indicate they were related, most likely siblings, and the older, practical woman with the graying hair would no doubt be the mother.

Turning the photo over confirmed it. Kagome's precise handwriting named the people in the picture, the place, and the date. She pulled out another picture, noticing that this time they were seated around a large dinner. It was the same people, this time with a much older man who seemed to be chastising whoever took the picture. According to the back, it was her grandfather.

Something about everything seemed off in the house. Sango put the pictures back and stared at the room reflected in the mirror, wondering what it was. For one, she would never have guessed there was a man living here. Two, Kagome didn't have any pictures out—they were all hiding. There was nothing personal about the house, not like Van and Hitomi's where Merle's school picture sat by the television, and proud schoolwork was taped to the fridge door.

Had something happened to make Kagome try to hide her family?

Sango continued, opening the closet. How many pairs of shoes did Kagome have! She was about to shut the closet when she realized something wasn't right. Sango looked again at the closet before she pinpointed what was wrong. All of the clothes were bright and colorful, and most of them designer names Sango couldn't have even dreamt of affording. Which was why the crimson robe of woven linen jumped out of her. She pulled it out of the closet, examining it. It was just a linen robe, crimson, with a twine clasp on the shoulder to keep it closed.

'Weird.' Sango put it back and then left to go and check the last room in the house.

The final room was Inuyasha's office. Sango opened the door and was almost physically shaken from the _jyaki_ in the office. Downstairs, she heard glass shatter and then Akane's voice asking Miroku if he was alright. Sango bit her lip, glancing behind her. She hadn't been the only one to feel it, then. Of course Miroku would have been able to sense it, especially if she could.

The office was where Inuyasha spent most of his time, obviously. His power was left in the room, but it wasn't unpleasant. In fact… in fact, it was impossible to tell what kind of demon the aura belonged to. As Sango stepped into the room to investigate it, she was unaware of the way her mind seemed to revel in it subconsciously. Some part of her thrived and played in the feeling in the room. It made her skin break out into goose bumps and she breathed in deeply. It smelled like after-shave, and was nice. Inuyasha used the same after-shave as Miroku. But Miroku… he didn't feel like _this_…

She couldn't tell what demon it was from, but she could tell it was masculine. It was incredibly masculine. Everything about the feeling the room and the room itself screamed 'male', from the dark wooden furniture and the hard lines of the furniture to the stark deep green walls and the heavy curtains casting the room in endless layers of shadows.

Still, there was nothing odd about the room, not at first. A computer, diplomas and graduation certificates, but as she stood there, some things began to stand out to her. First, there were pictures of Kagome, everywhere. A wedding picture by the monitor, a painting on the wall, smaller photos on the bookshelf. It was like… like he was _obsessed_ with her.

'He married her, didn't he?' she told herself, shaking her head and chastising herself. So what if Inuyasha seemed to be infatuated with Kagome? Good for him! So many people lost that passion after becoming married, it was good that he continued to fawn and dote over her.

The second thing was the fridge. Sango had been about to dismiss it so she could hurry down and check on Miroku, but then she reconsidered. She remembered the lemonade glass, and the trace of blood on the cup rim. 'It probably just has cans of beer…'

But she couldn't be sure until she _checked_…

Sango opened the fridge door and gasped. Sitting in the fridge in neat little rows was the most damning evidence she had ever seen. Blood. Sack after sack of blood—not just blood. She recognized other bags that contained platelets. Sango glanced down at a spot of color on the white door handle in her hand. It was brown, the color of old blood, and it was a smear… Sango eyed it carefully. A smear… as if someone with a bloodied hand had leaned down to close the door… or to open it.

But whether the blood was human or not, she couldn't tell. Demons could drink animal blood. Even that was better than having to rely on cooked meat. After all the time they'd had to evolve, demon bodies were still fed the most from raw, uncooked meat, and human meat was the best. After that, it was animal blood and raw animal meat. Sango's genetics proved her incapable of keeping down what wasn't cooked, but _blood_ on the other hand? _Blood_ she could keep down.

She reached in and pulled out one of the plastic bags, watching the dark liquid move from being disturbed. It looked thick, and the plastic was thin to demon fangs. She could bite into it, pierce it, and drink to her heart's content, prove whether it was animal blood or not.

She knew she was taken in by the idea. Animal blood was like alcohol to Sango. It made one feel fuzzy and warm, and it boosted powers. It would make Sango faster and stronger than normal. She'd be able to see, hear, and smell better.

…and if it turned out to be human blood, it'd be cannibalism.

"What the hell are you doing in my office?"

Sango dropped the blood pack and closed her mouth, realizing she had her mouth open. Spinning, she was startled to see Inuyasha standing at the door, furious. When she snapped her mouth shut, she winced, feeling delicate fangs pierce her bottom lip. Inuyasha noticed, and he noticed the blood pack on the ground, taking into account her flushed face.

This time his voice was lower and slower as he began advancing on her. "I asked you a question, wench. What the hell are you doing here?"

If he hadn't been degrading to her, Sango suspected she would have been too ashamed to answer. She balled her fist, reminding herself that she was the professional. Never mind she had actually been contemplating biting into a bag of blood without identifying what the hell it was! Never mind that Inuyasha was now cracking his knuckles threateningly. Sango opened her mouth to answer, but he beat her to it.

Inuyasha scooped up the package of blood on the ground, examining it. He eyed her, almost disdainfully, and his tone was that of a parent chastising a child. Sango felt _ridiculous_. "You thought I was harboring human blood, is that it? Or did you think that it was animal blood and you wanted to indulge yourself?"

Sango's lips tightened. She quickly dried away the blood gathering on her bottom lip in ruby drops. "Is it animal's blood?" she found herself asking.

He nodded, and held it out for her. "You can even try it yourself, if you want. It doesn't taste very good cold." Sango quickly shook her head. She had lost all interest in trying it! "The rest of it, is, however, human blood."

Inuyasha slapped the pint back into the fridge and slammed the door shut. Sango eyed him warily. "Why the hell would you have human blood? For that matter, why would you even admit to having it?"

His gold eyes appeared bored as he sank into the leather chair at his desk. He gestured for Sango to pull up a chair. "Because I'm supposed to have it, at least for the rest of the month. The hospital ran out of room in their fridges for blood, so I volunteered to take some home with me and keep it here until they have room for it. Of course, Kagome won't let me keep the blood in the fridge in the kitchen. She'd be perfectly ashamed to have a guest find it there, so I keep it here."

Sango regarded him skeptically. "And I'm supposed to believe it?"

With a shrug, he told her to call the hospital if he didn't. They would verify his story.

"And you're not tempted to drink it."

Inuyasha scowled at her at the suggestion. His glare was sufficient enough to make her feel unsettled. A moment ago he had been willing to talk, but at the suggestion Sango had made, she felt like a wall of ice had gone up around him. Growling filled the air between them, coming from him. His eyes flashed gold. "In case you haven't noticed, despite the ears or the eyes, _I_ am half-human. My _wife_ is human. I would never do anything like that. It would be too close to drinking Kagome's blood, and it would be far too close to cannibalism for my taste. Despite whatever you may think about my wife, Miss Tora, _I_ love her."

He continued at her surprise. "Oh yes, I've seen the way you look at her. You look at my wife like she's some lesser life form, the way I've seen demons look at humans sometimes just because they may not be as strong or as fast. I didn't wed Kagome because of her brains, Miss Tora. I wedded her because she accepted me as a half-demon, never wanting me to be anything but myself. I married Kagome for her heart. If you can't respect that, then I suggest you leave this house right now because if you look at my wife like that one more time, I will have no trouble whatsoever dragging you back to the IBSP and dumping you into the hands of whatever sad family raised you."

His words stuck and stayed. Sango bristled with anger, and Inuyasha knew it. She understood it, though, now. She understood why there was no traces of Inuyasha's personality in the house save for the room. She understood why there were pictures everywhere now. It was because he worshipped the ground she walked on. He let Kagome have the run of the house because it made her happy. But that still didn't explain why Kagome was storing all of her personal belongings away.

They regarded each other coolly. Eventually, Inuyasha spoke, his voice bitter. "You might as well spit it out and say it…"

"I don't understand," she admitted. "You're total opposites!"

Inuyasha winced. "I know, and despite that, she accepted me." He paused and then let out a painful sigh. "I had been teased my whole life for having mixed blood. My family… they're the kind of demons you'd hunt in the IBSP. They saw human beings as inferior, and that I was half-human… they hated me for it. Kagome didn't. I… I dote upon her. I'm like my father in that respect. I'd die for Kagome. I'd kill for Kagome. I'd do everything I can to keep Kagome safe." His voice lingered away and his gaze slowly turned to stare at a picture of Kagome by the side of his desk, the one from their wedding day. Sango doubted very much that he meant to say the next sentence out loud. "I would do everything I can to keep her safe, but no matter what I do, she keeps slipping away from me…"

Sango was hesitant for a second. She wasn't sure if she should continue to talk or not. "Why not?" Her voice was as soft as she could make it, and it seemed to be enough. Inuyasha kept talking.

"Because she _is_ human, and they _do_ have weaknesses. Everyday, her heart gets weaker, and her body starts to deteriorate a little bit. As soon as a living thing is born, it starts to decay. Each blink, each beat, each gesture and sound brings them once step closer to the grave. Humans, compared to the life of a demon, have the lifespan of a cat or a dog."

He smiled weakly. "Do you realize that when we got married, Kagome was seventeen? My family was convinced that I was going to go to hell because I was marrying someone who was seventeen, and I was already more twice her age. Now look at us. Someday, before we know it, I'll be thought of as Kagome's son, and then her grandson." His mouth turned bitter and she watched as he bit his lip to keep it from shaking. His gold eyes were dark ember with regret. "One day, the one person in this goddamn world who loves me is going to be gone, and I will be all alone. So, why not put up with potpourri and flowers and leave the seat down? It'll be over before I know it."

Sango could say nothing in response. She just kept staring at him, feeling sorry for him. Inuyasha saw it and sneered at her. "Don't. Don't look at me like that. One day, you'll know what it feels like, wench."

She bristled again. "I will not!" she snapped back. She knew what she was going to do. She was going to date Urahara, and marry him, and they would have kittens together…eventually, once she had gotten tired of working at the IBSP. That was the life she had wanted since she had been little, and she _would_ have it.

His sneer turned into a smirk. "Yes, you will. I saw the way you looked when that man collapsed. You care for him. It doesn't have to be a sexual relationship. Friendship will be enough. What happens when you go see him and you have to go and see him in the old folk's home? It's the way demons are, Miss Tora. Nothing can change it."

Sango stood, dusting off her shirt. She wanted to end this conversation—_now_. She opened her mouth, but a female voice cut her off.

"Sango?" Akane leaned in the doorway. Inuyasha groaned at seeing another female in his office. "Miroku wants you. You've got to hear this."

* * *

Miroku sat on a kitchen chair across from Kagome. Sango almost giggled when she saw that his long legs were drawn up off the ground and he sat in his seat cross-legged, his knees visible over the edge of the table. Then she spotted the remains of a glass underneath his chair, lemonade glossy and sticky-looking on the floor. They'd been too busy talking to clean up the mess and allow Miroku to sit properly. 

The other three chairs were occupied by Akane, Ranma, and Kagome. Sango leaned against a kitchen counter, and Inuyasha protectively stood behind his wife, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair. Kagome didn't seem surprised when she saw him. Sango supposed that he had just gotten off of a shift or something.

"Now then, Miss Kagome, would you please repeat for Sango what you told me?"

Miroku's voice was kind and gentle, but she still looked scared. Kagome chewed on her bottom lip and slowly tilted back her head to look at Inuyasha, as if for permission. She held the photocopies of the translations in her hands and they shook a little. When Inuyasha nodded for her to continue, she seemed less nervous, though her voice was quiet. It sounded hollow compared to what it had before. It was deeper too. It took Sango a moment to realize that she had lost the perky, high-energy tone she'd always had before.

"I said that we didn't summon things like this," she repeated. Sango's eyes widened. Kagome was a summoner? She was so surprised at their string of good luck that she missed the way Inuyasha looked scared for a moment, like they were going to take Kagome away because of what circle she belonged to.

"The summoning we do," she continued, flipping through the pages. Her voice was stronger now. "The summoning we do is completely different. These kinds of things are beyond my skill. They… they're _evil_. They're… _malevolent_. These are creatures which are meant to hurt, to kill, to maim… we don't call things like that. We're bound by the Rede, like most people. So long as we harm nobody, we do what we will."

"So what do you summon then?" Miroku queried. "How does it work?"

"Well…" Kagome looked uncertainly up to Inuyasha again. They seemed to exchange a silent conversation before Kagome shrugged lightly. "You can always come and see it if you want. Our leader… we call him the Red Priest. I'll talk to him, and you can see what it's like. We summon demons for wisdom and advice. We summon _nice_ spirits, things of beauty that we'd all sit back and admire… and sometimes, we summon spirits that need something in this world to feed on…"

Sango felt a chill pass up her spine. There was only one type of demon who wanted something from this world to feed on. They were the children of Shabranigdo. Her eyes darkened and she glared at Kagome. "You mean you summon in things like vampires or succubae?"

Kagome was nervous. She chewed on her bottom lip again. "It's not like that. We never call them enough to make give them bodies. Instead, they share a body with us, just for an hour or two, enough so that they can take what they want. We have animal blood and…" She blushed deeply, not needing to explain what a succubus needed. "We keep them alive. We don't worship them or want to free them in this world."

Sango felt a growl start to rise in the back of her throat. She knew what Kagome meant. Kagome meant that they callled them into the world and gave them what they wanted. Creatures which, for thousands of years, had preyed mercilessly upon human beings were now being offered what they wanted and kept alive on it! Wasn't Kagome aware of how many people had died under the hands of Shabranigdo's children? "You feed those _monsters _like they're animals in a zoo! Like they're some kind of endangered species you need to save!"

Pushing her seat back, Kagome stood up, slamming a hand down on the table frustrated. "They _are_! They're slowly dying over there! Just because you demons may not like having them on this plane doesn't mean they should be killed for how they evolved!" Tears stung Kagome's eyes, but she did not shed them. Sango was still glaring at her. "I'm bound by my rules, just as you are! I don't hurt anyone, Sango! I _don't_! We _don't_! Even if they are evil creatures, we don't kill them! They deserve to have a chance to change themselves, just as your or I do! Don't you understand that? Don't you?"

Sango looked away when she saw the tears start to roll down her cheeks. Inuyasha's grip on his wife's shoulder tightened and he drew her close. Her back to his chest, she buried her face in her hands.

Inuyasha's voice was low. "I think you should all leave now. You've upset my wife enough."

Akane looked disappointed. She spread her hands and looked up at them hopefully. "Please, about seeing these things first hand. We still would like too." Kagome didn't look up, and Inuyasha looked ready to bite off her hands. Akane softened her expression, looking up at Inuyasha as she would have her grandmother with the plastic-covered couch, with love and open respect. "Please, help us to understand. Until we do, more people might end up dying."

Inuyasha did not look ready to reconsider, but Kagome did. She sniffled loudly, rubbing her cheeks until they were deep pink. Her nose was a delicate shade of pink from crying. Sango was a bit envious. Even after crying, Kagome still looked beautiful and sincere, if a bit angry.

"Fuck the Red Priest," she said, though without any venom in her voice. "We're meeting again tomorrow night. I'll give you the address. Come over, all four of you. I'll make sure that you get admitted."

"Can you do that?" Akane asked, making her voice sound a bit uneasy. It worked. Kagome immediately began nodding. "I don't want to get you in trouble…"

"I can. The next in line in power is the Red Priestess. I'll make sure that she lets you in. And I'll make sure that we summon one of the demons I was talking about before… just to make sure that she understands what we're trying to do here," she finished with a glare at Sango.

Miroku stood up, avoiding the broken pieces of glass and the lemonade. "I think we're done here."

* * *

To be continued... 


	25. The Rivals

AN: Suichiro and Kokyuo are actually two different characters (the first is a doctor and the second is a son of Satan) from CLAMP's Wish, a very cute series I recomment picking up. It's only 4 books long and enough chibi's to make your head explode! And some very attarctive demons and angels. So, Suichiro, not my character. CLAMP's. I apologize for the lack of MS in this chapter. Trust me, there will be some only two short chapters from now, and then some. Then lots of it. Im fact, it explodes... but I've said too much.

Chapter Twenty-Five: The Rivals

"Raspberry, please."

The lady behind the counter accepted Sango's money and turned to begin making Sango's smoothie. She leaned on the counter as she waited in anticipation, happy for the first time in what felt like ages. Sango had become frustrated not only with the on-again-off-again headway into their case, but also with her life. She'd wanted to get desperately away from both Urahara and Miroku, so she had turned to Akane and said: I need shopping therapy.

Akane had wholeheartedly agreed.

With both of them in the mall, splurging their money and sweets and smoothies it was easy to forget everything. For a scant few hours they were ordinary girls on summer vacation, relaxing at a mall. Sango wasn't half demon, Akane didn't have telekinetic powers, and after an ice cream cone and laughing over the lingerie displays, it was also easy to pretend that they didn't have a weapon strapped to their waist under baggy tank tops.

Once Sango had acquired her smoothie—and was sucking blissfully away—Akane grabbed her hand and began pulling her towards the book shop. "C'mon! I want to see if thelatest volume of Fruits Basket is out!" she exclaimed, pulling Sango along whether she was willing or not.

Sango was more than willing to go, of course. The bookshop was always number one on their list of stores to visit. Sango liked going for the ambiance and to look at books she could potentially use next year in school. Akane liked it because she had a thing for romance novels—secretly, of course—and only with Sango could she buy them and not worry about Sango spreading it around work.

But that didn't mean Sango didn't tease Akane about it. After being disappointed that the latest volume wasn't arriving for another week, a new novel by Yuu Watase caught her eye. She stood examining it, as if enraptured by the back cover. Sango grabbed it from her hands, shaking her head disapprovingly.

"_Finds herself the object of affection from two beautifully handsome men_," she read off the back cover. Sango set down her drink on an empty bookshelf to pick through it. "Sounds just like Fushugi Yuugi. Man, to resort to old plots like that, Watase's really digging for plots here."

Akane didn't try to steal it back. Instead, she smiled shyly and crossed her arms, a twinkle in her blue eye. "Oh, really, Sango? But seeing as how you're getting romanced from Urahara-sama and Miroku-sama, I suppose that makes you Miaka Yuki. Oh yes, Sango. I've heard about that. Even if I hadn't, anyone who wasn't blind could pick up on the fact that Urahara and Miroku both like you. I mean, it's almost disgusting. When you leave the room, they both look like puppy dogs whose master has taken away their food bowl. And I swear to God! When you lean over around _either_ of them you would need a pitcher to catch their drool!"

As Akane laughed at the face Sango made, Sango nearly growled back at her. "Was reading all these cheesy romances what put those ideas into your head, Akane-chan? Whatever in the world possessed you to start reading these things? It's not like these types of thing actually happen."

"Sango, you're so cynical," Akane chided lightly. "You're half demon. How can you say that these things can't happen—aliens, machines that think and act like people, other worlds, and demons—when you know for a fact that two of them already exist? And as for the cheesy romance plot, all you have to do is to look at your own love life to see that they can happen. Perhaps not in the extreme romance novels use, but they do happen. Love triangles aren't so uncommon." Akane picked up another manga off the shelf, staring at it wistfully. "I kind of wish something like that would happen to me."

With a little smile, Sango poked her best friend. "There's always Saotome."

"What? _Ranma_?"

"No, I meant his father. Yes, Ranma!"

"Don't roll your eyes like that at me, Sango." Akane's back stiffened as she put the book back down. "Ranma's a nice person, but he's ill-sensitive, quiet, perverted…" Sango watched as Akane's fists clenched before she controlled herself.

"It's not like those are all qualities you hate," Sango pointed out gently. She shook her head, her brown hair clinging to her skin, which was covered in goose-bumps from the air conditioning blaring in the book shop. She softened her voice. "Face it. The main reason why you don't like Ranma is because he's better than you. For ages you were the best kid your age in the IBSP—of course, you never went up against Ranma. Now you've found someone better than you and it scares you because you're not the best anymore."

Akane was throwing Sango death-glares now. "Gee, I wish I knew myself half as well as you knew me, Sango-chan." Frustrated, she stomped off to the other side of the bookshelf, talking as she went. "I'll like Ranma when he starts to act a bit warmer towards me! God gave him a mouth! Maybe he should try using it for once!"

Sango was barely holding back her laughter as she looked back down to see she was still holding the Yuu Watase manga Akane had picked up. At least the conversation had veered away from Sango's love life, which was what Sango had really wanted. As she reached out to put he book back on the shelf, a hand reached out to take it from her. Sango spun around to see one of her class mates standing behind her, inspecting the book with a careless expression. He was so close to her Sango was frightened—not because it was an invasion of privacy, but because she had never heard him sneak up on him. She had never felt body warmth move closer, or heard footsteps. It was as if he had materialized out of thin air.

Now he was so close to her his body was pushing back the goose-bumps on her skin, so close she could smell his aftershave. He flipped through the book carelessly before shaking his head so that strands of black hair, glinting blue in the light of the bookstore, fell into eyes as dark as night. His voice was rich with laughter as he passed her back her book.

"I never imagined the great and practical Tora Sango would read something so childish. Wouldn't it suit you better to read some of that English fad stuff? Dean Koontz? Michael Chrichton? Books about science and genetics and criminal investigations?"

"Possibly, Suichiro, but this wasn't mine in the first case." Sango almost slammed the book back on the shelf and picked up her drink. She tried to pass her way between his body and the bookcase, with "My choice in books shall remain a secret, as always."

His hand stopped her. Suichiro Kokuo leaned over and rested his hands on the rim of the book shelves, capturing Sango between them. He clucked his tongue lightly, smiling and revealing very nice white teeth. "Miss Tora, it wounds me to hear you say that. How long have we known each other? How long since we sat together in our first high school biology class? I can still remember the first time I ever asked you out, Sango."

Sango glared at him. "So can I. You asked me out to a movie over a fish dissection."

It wasn't that Sango hated Suichiro. It was hard to hate someone as nice and popular as he was. But Sango came close. Dating Suichiro would have made Sango's high school life easier. She would have become a member of the popular clique by default, and she never would have gotten teased again. However, she had always said no. He wasn't Urahara, and she didn't want to be with him. The fact that he kept trying to ask her out was almost endearing—and more than a little annoying. Something about Suichiro bothered her—now more than ever. Sango had left work because she wanted to get away from men! A third romantic interest at this point was just too much.

He smiled at her. He had a charming smile, but Sango didn't like it. It wasn't like Urahara's, where it was full of fun and mischief, reminding her of tickle-fights. And it wasn't like Miroku's, where it was full of boyish-energy and promises of nights of entertainment, either going out or staying in. Suichiro's smile was just a tad short of smug. He knew he was good-looking and he abused it.

That was probably why he kept on asking her out. He didn't understand why anyone would say no to him. His looks had gotten him everything in life, except Sango. He shook his head, leaning a bit closer to him again. Sango held her drink ready, either to stab him with the straw if he came any closer or to dump out her drink on his pants to make him back off. He was trying too hard, he really was. Last time he'd tried asking her out, he'd brought her flowers. He always tried too hard.

"Sango, please. Don't make me beg. One night. That's all I ask. One night to let me… let me take you out to supper, to treat you like a princess and show you how much you mean to me."

God help her, Sango was willing to say yes because it would get him away from her. She couldn't. There was one other problem with saying yes to Suichiro: he had been one of the friends of their first female victim. They needed information from him, badly, at this point, but her morals wouldn't let her use him like that just for information.

Could they?

"If you want to show you how much you mean to me, then why _don't_ we get together?" she asked, batting her eyelashes at him. Either she was horrible at it or else Suichiro had become so accustomed to her turning him down that his eyes widened in shock, and not repulsion. Sango felt bile rising in the back of her throat as she tried to look coy. If this thing with Kagome fell through, then Suichiro may be their only hope for a new clue as to why she and Eve and the old Chinese monk had been killed. Sango latched on to that thought, refusing to let it go. This was business. It was justified. "We could talk about Ira..."

"Why would you want to talk about a thing like that?" he interrupted. "She's dead, Sango. What's your fascination with a girl that's dead?" Suichiro had gotten over his shock—he seemed to get over things like that easily.

"I just… she was in our classes, Suichiro. Our school. I feel like… like I lost the chance to know her. I've never had a schoolmate die before." Sango ducked her head, letting her eyes well up with water. If Kakashi knew how easily she could make herself cry, then Sango surely would have gotten away with far less! "Give me the chance to know her, please, before our memories have become dimmed. And then…"

Here Sango's pause was _not _the work of a girl who had learned to bluff from a young age. Back then, Sango had learned from watching the others, imitating their facial expressions and tones and yes, even syntax. This pause, in contradiction to the tears that clung to her eyelashes, too light to be actually shed, was real. It was one of disgust. She hated herself for what she was about to say. She hated it because it trapped her, it would no doubt bother Miroku and Urahara to find about it and it was giving Suichiro what he wanted. Her.

"Then, perhaps _next_ week, we can go out again and I can hear all about you, Suichiro-sama." She looked up at him, batting her eyes to make sure he saw the tears of sincerity. She only hoped her smile was as shy as she wanted. It felt more like an anguished grimace to her. "One date, to talk about someone else, and then you. Because I _do_ want to know you, Suichiro-sama. I truly do."

He smiled at her and brushed her hair. "I will agree to that. When she shall we go?"

"Do you have any plans for the night after tomorrow? I would say tomorrow night, but I have a previous engagement. But on Thursday night, I can be all yours."

Sango was one more flattering, simpering sentence away from committing ritualistic suicide.

"And where shall I pick you up?" Suichiro scratched his head, realizing something. "I don't know where you live, or your phone number or anything!"

_Just pick me up in front of the IBSP. I'll be the one dressed in something that covers me from head to toe, wires strapped to my chest and a piece to my right ankle._ Sango touched her mouth to head the earnest smile blossoming there. She was afraid the sarcasm might show through. "Oh, dear. Well, you have my school email address. Email me where to meet you and I will meet you there. And pick a time. I really must be going. I've lost my friend… I'll have to go and find a rent-a-cop and report her missing."

He showed no concern for Sango's missing friend. Where was Akane when you needed her? Sangosuspected that Akane had found a Harlequin romance novel and was devouring it in the back of the store where no one would see her. "Why can't I pick you up at your house?"

The answer presented itself in such a shower of truthfulness—mixed with occasional fib, of course—that Sango thought it was a godsend. "It's my family, you see. They're always so overprotective of me. An hour goes by without hearing me and they think I've gone off and fallen in a ditch!" She laughed lightly, the kind of laugh she'd heard from Kagome only a few hours ago. "I would have to break the news to them. Their little girl has grown off and gotten herself a date. I'm afraid that they'd give you the third degree and you wouldn't like that. My uncle's a cop, after all. He knows how to give the third degree. And my other uncle is a genius. He no doubt has some kind of torturing device or truth serum somewhere. And then there's my brother. Oh, well. You know how brothers are. I'm afraid he'd go off and challenge you. No, best to make sure that _I_ like you first and then they can meet you. If I like you, they'll have to accept you, now won't they?"

Suichiro looked as though the moon had just fallen into his lap. "Wow… that's some family. One girl and a house full of guys… no wonder you're such a tom boy sometimes. You know…" He paused, looking considerate. "I think that's the most I've ever you say in one sitting unless you were answering a question in science class."

"Oh, well, I'm shy but once you warm up to me…" She laughed again.

Suichiro took her hand and began to raise it to his lips. "I will go and make plans immediately. Until two days hence, Lady Sango." He lifted her hand the rest of the way and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. Sango let her arm go limp so that he would not feel her muscles tense as she tried to avoid a wince.

Oh, Sango had been kissed like that before, but Suichiro's kiss had been insincere and gross and… and slimy. Urahara may not have kissed like Miroku, but even his kisses weren't slimy. In fact,Suichiro's kiss wasn't even physically slimy. There had just been something about it that had made Sango recoil in sheer disg---

"Tora Sango, I didn't know you had it in you, you sly dog you!"

Sango spun to see Akane standing at the end of the row of books, grinning and popping a chocolate in her mouth as if she were at the movies. Sango growled at her. "Akane, you sound like your sister Nabiki!"

Akane merely grinned. "And I can shop like her too! Come on! We've got to get you some new clothes for you big, hot date with Sui-ii-chiro!"

Sango sighed. "Please, please don't remindme. How am I going to explain this to the others? 'Guys, I'm going out with a really hot guy who no doubt thinks the only reason why my marks are better than his is because in his world I sleep with my professors. After all, in his world a hot ass is the only thing going for me. I'm planning on interrogating him. Oh, don't worry if I happen to blow my cover by asking an intelligent question. I'm sure the cleavage I'm flashing him from the shirt Akane forced me to buy will distract him enough not to notice it's even me talking. Hell, Miroku, you could show up and ask him to order you a hot dog and so long as I act like I like him and show him some skin, he'll be as compliant as a puppy!'"

"You're really talkative today," Akane noted dryly.

"That's caused I'm _pissed_ and I want to _vomit_!" Even as she said it she took another sip of her smoothie. By now it was more liquid than ice, but it was still refreshing and the sugar settled her stomach some. It was hard to be angry with sugar in one's system.

"Clothes shopping will make everything better."

Sango rolled her eyes as he friend once again ushered from one story and into another. "Akane, I _have_ clothes. In fact, I have a closet full. I don't need any more."

"Uh-huh. I've seen your closet, Sango. Trust me. You need clothes for this date. Maybe if you were going to a funeral or to an interview for being a teacher. Hell, Sango, if you wanted to dress up like a Quaker and go and chop wood, I know you have the clothes to pull it off. Suichiro is a boy, not a banker! You need to get something that shows a bit of skin and complements your figure. Something a _normal_ girl would wear on a date, not one of those business suits you own. And I know you have jeans, but Suichiro's got money, man. Do you really think he's going to take you WacDonald's or something? You need something fancy…. You need something fancy, in a skirt, in deep red… or maybe brown, with gold accents…"

Sango felt like she was being scrutinized by Akane as the other girl suddenly began to walk around Sango, assessing her from every angle. Akane then sighed. "I know just where to go to by clothes for you, Sango. I love the clothes they always have on display. I only wish that I could wear them. I'm too short and too… chubby to wear those clothes."

"Tendo Akane, how many times do I have to tell you? Just because you can't fit into a size 1 doesn't mean you're chubby! I can't fit into a size one, either!" Sango rolled her eyes. Akane didn't seem cheered up at all. In fact, she seemed to look more distraught than ever. Sango tried to find a new way of approaching her friend's hurt feelings.

Akane was by no means overweight, she was simply made of muscle; muscle which meant she couldn't fit into the stringy, lacy clothes which seemed to have become all the fashion. When they had been little, neither of them wouldn't have cared much. Both of them had preferred boys' clothes, but now that they were older, it was another matter entirely.

"Akane, if you were really fat, do you think that Ranma would have an interest in you? You are an attract…."

No sooner had she mentioned Ranma than Akane's hurt expression turned both hurt and angry, color flaring to her cheeks. "Ranma! That idiot! He… he's the one who called me chubby! He said I was too big and clumsy to catch him in a fight!"

For a moment she could hardly believe that Ranma would be callous enough to say such a thing. As Akane continued, explaining how Ranma had said she was as slow and dim-witted and as strong as an ox, Sango realized he could be so callous. Engrossed in the story of how Ranma had avoided Akane's blows and let her attack and follow him around and around the Tendo dojo, Sango inquired, "What did you do after he said that stuff to you?"

Akane's red blush turned deeper. "I punched that ill-sensitive pervert so hard he cracked the wooden plank when he touched down!" Sango must have looked shocked, for Akane continued: "Oh, he was alright, Sango! Ranma knows how to take a punch, but… but… _arg_! That boy confuses me!"

"I think he was just telling you that to get you mad."

"That's ridiculous! Ranma doesn't have enough wits to be able to… oh, now I'm off and doing it again. We just keep on insulting each other. I don't understand why."

Sango smiled at her friend and got ready to duck a blow she knew would come. "Ah, true love!" She collapsed into giggles as Akane's punch sailed over her head. After a second, Akane joined in.

But Sango could not avoid the shopping spree Akane still dragged her on.

* * *

"You don't have to help me with this," Miroku said, pouring over the old book Wufei had lent them. He was determined to scan the rest of the book, in case it held a new clue or incase it should ever come in handy again. Urahara had agreed to help him. Miroku didn't accept the help graciously because it confused him. Urahara was a techie. What purpose could he have in stopping his work and helping Miroku scan a book? 

"It would take you far too long to be scan all this by yourself, accept every single page and save it." Urahara accepted another page and leaned back in his seat, scratching his hat. "Besides, I do have an interest in this book. I'll probably never get to see anything like this again." He leaned forward, reaching out and tracing the words upon the screen. "It makes… it makes everything feel so close, like you can just reach out and touch and hold the past. Hold it fast to you…"

He sighed with such wistfulness that Miroku looked up, a bit surprised. Urahara was shaking his head, continuing to work on the computer as Miroku scanned another page. He was in the middle of a page when the door opened. Both men turned around, ready to yell at the silly technician who had endangered their clean room, but found it was Sango.

Sango stared ahead at Urahara before she lowered her head, staring down at her feet. "I need to talk to you, Urahara-sama." Sango paused a moment, glancing uncomfortably at Miroku. "Alone."

She didn't miss how Miroku appeared injured at her words. It was hard to miss something so obvious. Miroku forced himself to nod, trying to look understanding. Oh, he did understand. He accepted that Urahara and Sango were friends and thus closer than he and Sango at the moment; he was trying to look understanding so he didn't look bitter. "I get it. Urahara, I'll be outside waiting for you two to finish so we can finish scanning the book."

"Sure, Miroku." Urahara waited patiently for the door to close. He pulled out a seat for Sango, but she continued standing. Sango nervously switched her weight from foot to foot.

"Urahara-sama, I'm afraid I've gone and done something stupid," she reported. "Do you remember Suichiro?"

He chuckled at the name. "I can recall you being fourteen years old and coming home all in a tiff, threatening to shove a frog down his throat if he flirted with you again. Yes, I recall you talking about Suichiro." He stiffly moved to lean against the desk, folding his arms over his chest.

"He's… he's a close friend of the first female victim, Urahara-sama. Akane and I have been trying to find out more about her for months, but it's been no use. But… but if we could question Soichiru more, more than what the cops did way back when the murder first happened. Then… then maybe we could find out something more, something to connect her to other potential suspects!"

Sango looked up at him, almost pleading him to understand. Urahara did, but not everything. "So you want to ask this boy… what, out on a date so that you can be with him on a one-on-one basis and try to drag information out of him?" He shook his head, his long, scruffy bangs brushing his nose as he did so. "It's a shot in the dark, Sango, but not impossible. So what's the real problem?"

"I…" Sango glanced down at the floor, and, finding the floor safe, she continued to stare at it. "I ran into him today. I pretended to be stupid and blonde—um, no offense, Urahara-sama—and I got him to agree to go out on a date with me. I feel like I used him, Urahara-sama! I've left my morals and I'm just abusing them and him. And worse, oh, Urahara-sama, so much worse, I'm…"

She couldn't go on. Sango lifted her eyes from the floor, her lips pressed together tightly to keep her secret from spilling. Urahara had taken off his hat again. His eyes were level and calm and a warm shade of silver-blue. Sango couldn't help it when she saw those kind, friendly eyes understanding her without saying anything, yet encouraging her to speak her heart. When he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and held her gently, Sango quite felt that Miroku never stood a chance. She loved Urahara far too much.

"I'm scared, Urahara-sama." She dried her eyes before she could start to cry. "I'm so scared…"

"That it's going to be like before?" he inquired gently. Sango nodded. Urahara knew just how to ease over those fears. "Sango, we will take every precaution not to have a reenactment of last time. First… first, you must call him up. Ask him where he's going to take you so we can make arrangements to have two crews inside. If he doesn't know where to go, you pick the place. We'll have the upper hand if we know the territory. If he wants to go to a movie theater, talk him out of it, no matter what. You're smart. You can do it. Movie theatres are dark and crowded. We won't be able to keep an eye for you like we can a less-crowded place, like a restaurant. Fuu needs to get out of the house. She's been cloistering herself for days and I know that Ferio wouldn't mind taking her out… especially on the company budget."

He tweaked her nose and Sango smiled at him. He continued to plot out loud. "I don't think you can hide a gun on your persons… maybe in a hand-bag. Take a knife. If need be, don't be afraid to use your claws, either. Sesshomaru should understand if you start changing out of self-defense. We'll have you wired for both picture and sound. That way we'll have a record of everything and we can hear what's going on. Fuu will be there in case we lose radio contact. God bless telepaths. I'll be there in the getaway car out front making sure that all the equipment is running smoothly. Still… I'm afraid that Miroku, Ranma, and Akane are going to have to come too."

Urahara knew that Sango would prefer doing this as discreetly as possible, but he never expected her to get so pale when he mentioned Miroku's name. He couldn't help but lose a bit of momentum. She _did_ care about Miroku, no matter how cold to him she seemed. She cared about what he thought of her, and was ashamed that he'd now think she was some kind of a trollop for maneuvering a guy to dinner while two of her co-workers continued to vie for her attention.

"But why?"

"For one, they _are_ your partners. Ranma and Akane are wonderful combatants. They'll be stationed inside the restaurant as well. If things get too out of hand, they'll be there as your secondary back up. I say secondary because I don't want to have to explain to Sesshomaru why a restaurant is sending him a bill for damages to half of their restaurant. Miroku and I will be your primary back up, to get you out of their peacefully."

Sango gave a little sneer, but her voice wavered. She was only faking her disgust with having Miroku come with them. "I still don't see why Miroku has to come. He's not going to be any help, you know."

"Oh, yes he will. Miroku can read people, Sango. Between him watching the video relay and Fuu inside the restaurant, we'll be able to pick up on any lie he makes. That means you can continue on those tracks until we find out the truth. He'll also serve to read any malicious intent that Suichiro has, if any. Perhaps this is going too far, but after what happened last time…" Urahara reached out and gently stroked her hair, leaning down and kissing her forehead. "I'd prefer keeping you safe and protected to having something bad happen to you."

He wrapped his arms around Sango and kissed her. She didn't complain, and kissed him back, holding on to him as if he might magically disappear. Urahara would never let any harm come to Sango, not while there was life in his limbs.


	26. The Coven

Chapter Twenty-Six: The Coven

Perhaps it was that Sango was dreading the date with Suichiro and that was why the meeting with Kagome's coven seemed to happen before she knew it. Sango was going over the printouts from oh-so long ago, back when they had been looking through the registry files for suspects. The names were starting to blur on the page as she strained to think of some way, some how, that all their victims could be related. Why the Chinese monk? Why not a Japanese one? Why Wufei? Why Eve? Why another seemingly random University student? Had it just been random? If that was the case and they needed more blood, could she or Akane be the next targets? Why girls? Why not men? And what did they mean 'a body'? Where were they planning on getting a body? The morgue?

No, no. Urahara had implied their body had to be willing. It was a real, live body. It wasn't a body. It was a person.

Someone knocked on her door, disturbing her. Sango leaned back in her chair and wearily rubbed her eyes, telling them to come in. Akane opened the door, appearing a bit in a huff. Placing her hand on her hip she announced, "His Majesty Miroku requests you come down and disengorge yourself from whatever you're doing and drive us all over to Kagome's house. We're going to be late."

"Don't you mean 'disengage'?"

"No. Miroku actually used the word 'disengorge'. I suppose he made up the word, since it's not really a word…"

Sango put the papers back down, sighing and rolling her eyes. "That man is becoming more and more intolerable every hour that goes by! He _can_ drive. He could always steal Ferio's car and leave me to catch up, but no!" She grabbed her gun from the drawer in her nightstand and slipped it into the back of her jeans. As she didn't know where the ritual was taking place, she grabbed a light sweater on the way out, slamming her door shot. "Who does he think he is, really? He can't order people around like that!"

"I think he said the same thing about you, once," Akane idly commented. Sango glared at her. "Look, I'm not saying I approve. Like hell I approve of his snotty attitude lately, but, honestly, Sango! If you don't like it, don't do it."

"Then the case would suffer."

Akane was almost ready to pull her hair out in frustration. Over the past day, Miroku's attitude had been slowly becoming insufferable.

Everyone had noticed it. Miroku was getting sulky and moody. He was getting especially moody. Ranma had taken it upon himself to try and make Miroku smile, and each attempt was getting more and more elaborate. Eventually, Ranma gave up, remarking to Akane, "At this rate, the next joke will have to include balloons, lingerie, me on a tightrope walking across a gorge reciting Shakespeare, while scantily clad women gesture for applause. And a trained dog will somehow be involved."

Though everyone noticed them, no one could explain the changes in Miroku's personality. Everyone thus developed their own theories and opinions. Ferio worried, wondering if Miroku's changes stemmed from concern over Fuu's continued seclusion and depression. Though it was obvious Miroku had never thought of Fuu as a mother-figure, the two of them were close and anything upsetting their darling telepath usually impacted both Miroku and Ferio. Ranma figured it was because of the Miroku-Eve-Sango conflict, but did nothing to appease the situation. He had given Miroku his advice, and anything beyond that was a waste of breath for him. Akane was quiet and watched. Her theories were her own and seemed too silly to speak out loud. Sango merely fretted, finding it strangely painful to watch Miroku. The spark she admired in him was dwindling, and it hurt to see it fading away.

If you must know who was right, the truth is, Akane was correct. Miroku was becoming withdrawn because of his visions. She understood from watching him and talking to him that he still barely slept at night, if at all.

Akane had seen the bodies with which Miroku had been physically linked at their time of death. She was certain that if she had been experiencing the same things they had been, she wouldn't be able to remain the same person afterwards. As it was, Akane herself was losing weight. Sometimes she would have nightmares about when they found Eve and she would wake up, only to rush to the washroom and be ill. Akane suspected that Miroku had been going through something similar, finding himself plagued by reoccurring thoughts and feelings, like that of a clean, straight blade slicing...

The feeling wasn't leaving. The harder Miroku tried not to think about his last vision, the worse it was. He knew there was another vision on the way. It was just a matter of time. Each voice whispering in the back of the mind, each extra heart beat, each pump of adrenaline or cat nap may be the next trigger. Worse, he knew there was no way to stop it when it did come.

Only when Sango was around did Miroku calm down. When she walked into a room and Miroku felt that strength of mind press around him, when he heard that calm heartbeat with his mind and not his ears, he relaxed. He set his own tune and rhythm by hers. So long as he followed Sango, he firmly believed the second vision would not come.

His choice of following Sango, his heart and breath echoing hers in perfect echo and his mind capable of tasting and comprehending Sango's subtle changes in emotions, had an interesting effect. He found he could read her body too. He discovered it earlier that morning, while he was sparring with Sango.

Feeling guilty that she had worked out with Urahara the morning before, Sango offered Miroku to join her. Of course, Miroku accepted. Sango said it was a free-for-all, the only rules being no kissing, and no groping. That way both Miroku and Sango could practice in the style they enjoyed the most. Sango held nothing back when they fought. She didn't want to go easy on Miroku and insult him. Though she had more training, Miroku had taken the same courses and had to maintain his body just as she did.

She'd started off with a trip. Miroku hadn't even had time to react, and he'd ended up flat on his back, the wind knocked from his chest. Sango couldn't help but smirk, and Miroku stood back up again, realizing Sango wasn't holding back any punches. He was impressed. This time, she lashed out with a punch, followed by a roundhouse. Miroku simply followed her, avoiding (however narrowly) her attacks. Before he could think about attacking back, she threw another punch. This time he was able to block it.

It was Sango's turn to be impressed. It was rare that there was a normal human who could follow her attacks, let alone block them. Akane was one thing of the few who could beat Sango. More often or not, the two girls tied. They had been fighting together for so long that they could read each other's movements. Sango wondered if Miroku had learned to read her movements, or if she had been getting lax.

The question was still on her mind as she met Miroku and Ranma in the parking garage. She spotted Miroku leaning against a car. As soon as he saw her, he stood up full length, squaring his shoulders. He avoided her gaze, as if guilty for how he demanded her presence.

"I'm disengorged now," she said to Miroku, her tone disdainful.

Miroku laughed, catching her off guard. "I'm sorry, Sango. I know I've been a pain lately. I... I can't make an excuse for how I've been acting. It's deplorable, and unlike myself. I just..." Miroku trailed off, turning away from all his friends and looking at a car.

Akane eyed him warily. She had remained silent until that evening. Finally the curiosity got the better of her. Her voice was the gentle tone she had once so often kept hidden and now used frequently. "Miroku, did you have another vision?" She touched his shoulder, but he didn't turn around. "Miroku?"

"I haven't had any visions," he lied.

Akane was dubious. Sango was too busy starting the car to notice, but Miroku did. He motioned for Akane to speak to him about it later. At the very least, he could tell her what happened. He didn't have to tell her about the fire. He didn't have to tell him about his father or his brother. All he had to tell her was that someone was going to die, and he didn't know anything about who it could be. Neither fire nor lights gave away secrets.

Sango leaned her head out the window. "Are you guys coming or not?"

* * *

As Sango drove to Kagome and Inuyasha's house, she went over and over the rules of their engagement. "If we're suspicious of anything, anything at all, we wait until the ceremony is done and get names and fingerprints on the guise of it being a routine procedure. If they are the criminals, we do nothing and get back up. A coven is nine to twelve people. This one may be even more, especially if this is a cult group. We can't take on that many people." Sango eased the car around a corner.

"If a fight does break out, let Akane and I handle it."

Ranma nearly had a fit. "That's ridiculous!" he cried, leaning against his seatbelt. "Sango, you may be half-demon, but that doesn't mean you're allowed special privileges! The best fighters should stay behind to make sure the others get out, and that means that I should stay behind, not Akane!"

In the front seat, Akane's cheeks turned red at Ranma's flaunting.

"I'm better than Akane! She can't even land a punch on me! I..."

"I know, Ranma. Akane's told me that you won every time they fought." Ranma stopped complaining when Sango spoke, smiling at him in the rear view mirror. Beside her, Akane's angry red glow turned into an embarrassed blush. "See, first, Akane and I have trained together since we were little girls. We're a great team. You and I don't know how to fight cooperatively. Second, the reason why I want you to go is because of the fact that you _are _the best fighter in this group." In the mirror, her gaze slipped to Miroku. "The most important person right now is Miroku. No matter what, he has to get out alive. Without him, we lose our chance to capture the bad guys or save innocent people from being killed. That's why you're going with him. Make sure he stays alive."

Maybe she was looking too much into it, but Miroku seemed pained by her words. He looked perfectly miserable. Sango turned her eyes back to the road, making a note to ponder it later.

Akane leaned over, whispering to Sango. "What's the matter? You're really on edge for this thing!"

Sango shrugged, gripping the steering wheel tighter. "I don't like what we're getting ourselves into, Akane. I'm a science student! I like what I can understand. I don't understand magic. I wouldn't even believe in magic if I wasn't half-demon! And now... we're going to walk into a bunch of witches that are crazy enough to actually _want_ to summon monsters that feed off of humans as if they were cattle and we have to trust their word that we're guests and not the main entree!"

A glance was exchanged between Ranma and Akane. Neither of them had suspected this possibility.

"I don't like it. I don't like it one little bit!"

Slowly, Miroku leaned forward, touching Sango's shoulder gently. "Sango, take a deep breath. You're over reacting. You're half-demon. Trust your instincts. I believe you have good instincts. I trust in mine, and I'm only human, if a psychic one. Inuyasha may seem... different, but I firmly believe that Kagome is innocent. She's too... she's... Sango, everything in me is telling me that there's no way that this coven are the summoners we're looking for. You heard want Kagome said. She values the rules that govern witches. She wouldn't join a coven that's trying to hurt people. She has no reason to want to bring Shabranigdo into this world. He'd kill her. She's human."

Everything Sango had said was based upon a simple fact: she had been raised to hate demons like Shabranigdo and his children. They killed humans, her kind, and they warred upon the demons, her other kind. She had every reason to hate them. Her anger had blinded her, but Miroku's words reminded her of something... something she could almost figure out.

The clues to the puzzle were all there. She knew that. The problem was, they were still vague and undefined. She needed something to clear everything up. She needed something, something that would link everything together...

And for a brief moment, she had it. Then it was gone. More than ever, she was sure something sinister was going on, and somehow, Kagome's coven and Inuyasha was involved.

* * *

The members of the IBSP met with Kagome and Inuyasha at their house. From there, they followed Inuyasha's car to the meeting place for the coven. Everyone was surprised when it turned out to be in an area richer than Inuyasha and Kagome's. The house they saw looming overhead was unrealistically large. The windows were lit with candles. There seemed to be no electricity at all. Everything was old fashioned on a perfect scale, and the zen gardens seemed so perfect that the shifting grains of sand stirred up as Sango drove by were almost tragic.

As they poured out of the car, Inuyasha and Kagome were there waiting. They watched as Kagome kissed her husband and handed him a package, running inside. "I have to go help set up and cleanse myself for the ritual. Inuyasha will instruct you on what to do. See you inside!"

Inuyasha seemed gruffer than normal as he walked them towards the house. "This place is our headquarters. The house belongs to the Red Priest, the leader of the coven. We do the rituals either in the backyard, or in the basement, depending on which rituals are being conducted. The basement was built especially for the coven. We'll be summoning down there today. Kagome does worshiping rituals outside, normally."

Inuyasha pushed open the front door. Immediately Miroku was struck by the treasures in the Red Priest's house. There were collections which would have taken a lifetime to gather in his house: vases, paintings, and furniture. Miroku stopped listening to stand in front of a canvas painting of a Chinese woman staring at mountains emerging from clouds.

"It's beautiful," he sighed, staring at it. Sango paused, looking back at him, and found that Miroku seemed to have stars in his eyes as he looked at the painting. "Chinese, it's hundreds of years old. It's an original. An original!" His amazed voice turned into a small laugh. He felt a hand slip into his and turned to see Sango.

"Come on. You can look at the museum later, Miroku. We have a job to do right now."

Inuyasha led them to a bedroom. One of many, it seemed. "You can use this room." He threw the package on the bed and opened it to reveal for crimson robes of woven linen with a twine clasp, just like the one Sango had seen in his wife's closet. "Put these on for the ceremony. Put _only_ these on."

For a moment there was silence at Inuyasha's final sentence. Almost predictably, it was Sango who reacted first, and Akane second. Ranma, while not comfortable with the situation, had no problem stripping. Miroku showed no signs of distress. As far as Sango was concerned, Miroku was probably ready and rearing to strip of his clothes and wander around in nothing but a robe.

"I'm not stripping off my clothes!"

"Why in the world would we have to do that?"

"What are you? Some kind of pervert?"

Before Inuyasha could be swallowed whole by irate women, Miroku intervened. He slowly stepped between his partners and Inuyasha. "Let's all calm down before someone says something that they regret."

Sango growled at him. "Pervert."

Hearing her, Miroku winked at her before relaxing his stance, sticking his hands in his pocket as his cool blue eyes regarded Inuyasha. "While I accept what you're asking us to do, I agree with Akane. I would like to know why I have to strip naked and wear a cloth robe."

"I'm afraid that I don't actually know. Kagome has tried to explain it to me before, but I don't understand. It has to do with power levels, and returning to nature. Something about being released from the requirements of civilization and communing with the inner child." Inuyasha snorted, and his white ears twitched. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. "For you four, it has the added benefit of making sure that you won't be carrying any weapons or recording devices into the circle."

Sango reacted to that comment instantly. "No weapons?" She pushed past Miroku, her brown hair lashing behind her like a tail. Sango poked Inuyasha in the chest with her index finger. "You're summoning dangerous demons! You're all potential suspects in a serial killing! And we're not supposed to bring in weapons to protect ourselves against demons and humans?" Her lips curled. "You're an idiot."

Inuyasha growled back. They watched his hands, as they turned into fists and the claws became dangerously close to cutting his own skin with their sharp tips. His eyes flashed golden, much deeper and clearer than Sango's ever were or could be. "Don't ever call me stupid. Just do it."

Gently, Akane placed her hand on Sango's tense shoulder. "Don't worry about it. Give up the guns. We still have weapons. We still have you, and me, and Ranma." Her cheeks turned a shade darker when she realized she'd neglected to mention Miroku. She batted her eyes at him. "And Miroku, of course, is more than capable of holding his own."

"Thanks," he said simply. Akane couldn't tell if he was being sincere or not. She didn't particularly care to guess which one it was.

Gesturing to the bed in the guest room, Inuyasha said. "There's a lock box under the bed. You can put your guns and any other weapons you may have in there. The key's in the lock. One of you can carry it. That way the guns will be safe and you don't have to worry about your guns being tampered with or anything."

Akane smiled at him. "That's very generous of you, Mr, Inuyasha."

"Don't thank me. I didn't arrange it. Kagome did." His ears twitched as he spoke, agitated by the gruff sound of his own voice.

"We'll take our clothes off too," Miroku said. He was already unbuttoning his shirt.

When she heard him, Sango whirled around in surprise. When she saw that he was already undressing, her eyes narrowed. "Oh, I _knew_ you were a pervert! We aren't going to go walking around naked!"

Miroku's smile was genuine, and he chuckled. Sango found the sound as abrasive as she did impressive. "Would you take your shoes off before walking into a shrine to pray?"

"Of course I would!"

"Then why should this be any different? It's their customs. Just because we don't necessarily follow or agree with their practices, it doesn't mean that we shouldn't follow them." He winked at Sango, and she felt the color rise to her cheeks. "Don't worry. I promise not to look."

Inuyasha spoke up. "If you would feel more comfortable being at least slightly clothed, I'll talk to the Red Priestess. You can go ahead and wear your underwear. I know it's not much, but..."

"No, actually. I think it will be much appreciated,"

* * *

Miroku slowed as he followed Inyasha, until he was just slightly ahead of Sango. He looked down. Sango had lost track of how many times Miroku had done it. When they had first entered the mansion, Miroku had eyes only for the artifacts lining the hallways of the mansion. Now he ignored them, enraptured by the woman walking behind him.

"What do you want, Miroku?" she inquired as he came to walk beside her. She watched as his blue eyes slipped down and then back up, looking at her through the holes of the cloak, which flapped open with each step. He grinned at her, and it was oddly becoming.

He leaned over to whisper in her ear, that way no one would hear his comment. "Sango... your underwear is black." He batted his eyelashes at her, and Sango nearly found herself laughing. "You do know what they say about black underwear, don't you?"

She didn't know. Sango was a little intrigued. With a heavy sigh and a rolling of her eyes, she replied: "No, I don't know, Miroku. What does it mean?"

"Girls only wear black underwear if they want someone to see it!"

Flabbergasted and quite embarrassed, Sango was contemplating striking the back of his head for such a ridiculous saying, but she laughed instead. Shaking her head, she elbowed him good naturedly and he laughed in unison. At the front of their procession, Inuyasha heard and turn to glare at them. This only resulted in a fit of barely contained laughter smothered into the palm of their hands.

Finally, they stopped. They stood in the basement of their rich host. The room was massive. Miroku suspected that it must have stretched underneath the entire house, but he couldn't verify it. The room was lit in soft candlelight, which seemed to disappear into nothingness. People milled about the room, talking in whispers. Some waved their hands dramatically and others stood closely together, deep in intimate conversations. All of them wore the crimson linen robes, and, to Miroku's surprise, masks. The males all wore a masque of white color, disgustingly decorated with sneering, twisted lips, exaggerated brows, and fangs. The women, in comparison, wore beautiful black masks with sculpted cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes with beautiful lips.

"Why are they wearing masks?" Ranma asked out loud.

"Some of the members of Kagome's coven like to keep their identities a secret. Sometimes being involved with a coven would be detrimental to their appearance." He stiffened a little. "I have to go and get ready myself. You four watch from here. And try not to disturb anyone, okay?" He looked directly at Sango and she knew he was talking about her upsetting people by arguing over whether or not they were doing the right thing summoning in dangerous demons.

After he left, Akane wasted no time. "I'm going to go over to the other side, see what's over there. Maybe I can try mingling and talking to people."

"That's a good idea! I'm coming too," Ranma decided.

She shook her head no and held out a hand to stop him. "That's not a good idea, Ranma. I'll only be gone a moment or two; just until the ritual starts. People will talk to me, Ranma. I don't have to worry about upsetting everyone because I'm not as temperamental as Sango is about these rituals, and they'll talk to me over you because I'm a girl."

Ranma looked offended. "Why won't they talk to me?" he demanded.

"Because." She smiled sweetly, showing off white teeth. "I'm just a cute little girl. I'm too short to be a threat, Ranma. And people never suspect girls!" With a giggle that took Ranma completely off-guard, she skipped off.

"Can you smell anything, Sango?" Miroku knew the answer as soon as he looked at her. Her nose was wrinkled and she looked as if she might sneeze. He sighed.

"It's not my fault!" she protested, indignant. "They're smells all over the place. There's quite a bit of candles and incense and someone is wearing _a lot_ of cologne. But I'll tell you something. There are both humans and demons in this place. Akane's coming back already."

Akane _was_ coming back already. She was tugging at her robes and her face was nearly the same color. At once upon seeing her, Sango was full of concern and Ranma was almost overcome with an urge to go into the crowd of people and break a few necks. Sango put her arm around her best friend's shoulder. "What's the matter?"

She shivered a little. "I don't think I like this place very much, Sango. There are some very strange people here. I started talking to people, and at once one of the men in the crowd put his arm around my shoulders, just as you have yours now. And then he looked down at me, and a horrid red tongue came out and licked those _awful_ ugly lips, and he asked if I was going to participate. He said that he wished I would, for then he'd be sure to offer himself to me and that he would eat me up. It's the way he said it! Like, like he wasn't trying to be funny. Like he was actually talking about _eating_ me up!"

Miroku felt almost cruel for asking for clarification. "What did he ask you to participate in?"

"Some kind of a summoning... he didn't actually get any clearer, but..." She fell silent after realizing all the other talking had stopped.

A tall figure had walked into the room, flanked by two other figures. The smaller two had their cloaks drawn across their heads, so that their faces could not be seen. The tall one, however, didn't. His face was pale and his eyes were closed, and his dark purple hair was swept back behind his ears. As he walked into the crowd, they bowed low, including one of the figures flanking him. His voice rang out in the strange language written in the book Wufei had sent. Three of the visitors could understand very little of it, but Miroku could pick most of it up, if only he could have stopped staring at the tall figure.

"Oh my God," he muttered. The tall figure was no holding incense in one hand, walking in a large circle. The smaller of the two coven members held his opposite hand, escorting him around the circle. The other cloaked figures had moved to stand outside the circle, their heads bowed in supplication. They hummed and the sound echoed in the cave. As they watched, the sound and the bodies began undulating. "It's Rezo... Rezo is the Red Priest."

"Rezo?" Sango perked up. "Who the hell is Rezo?"

Ranma answered. "He's one of the classical history teachers at our university."

Miroku swallowed very hard. "He's the man who taught me how to read that script, the old one. Rumor around the school is that he was a monk."

"Was?" Akane inquired.

He nodded. "According to the rumors, they found out that he was worshiping the old gods. Not the Shinto ones, not Iranagi and the others, the _old_ gods. The demon gods of old. Gods that meant to symbolize nature and its ruthless power." He paused bitterly. "I guess that the rumors around our school were true for once, Ranma."

Sango looked up at him hopefully. "Can you understand what they're saying?"

Miroku began to translate. "With the power of air, I charge the spirits of elemental air and life, protect this space; protect all those who enter it." Rezo began to traverse the circle again, sprinkling water. "With the cleansing powers of water, I charge the spirits of elemental water and life, protect this space; protect all those who enter it." Rezo began to then traverse the space sprinkling dirt. "With the power of earth, I charge the spirits of elemental earth and life, protect this space; protect all those who enter it."

Rezo then picked up a large match from where it lay on a marble alter draped in red silk in the center of the circle he made. From out of apparently nowhere the members of the cult held out candles. As Rezo walked around the circle, he let the candles. The circle became brighter and the masks, even the beautiful black ones worn by women, began to look eerie and disfigured. The humming was louder than ever. "With the powers of fire, I charge the spirits of elemental fire and life, protect this circle, and all those who enter it."

Finally, he picked up a blade lying on the altar and cut his palm. Akane, beside Ranma, winced. He began walking around the circle, and drops of blood hissed as they landed on the ground. "With the power of blood, with the power of life and humanity, with the power of emotion and devotion, I promise the Old Ones here and now. The space is sacred. None with malevolence shall enter it, and none with malevolence shall leave it." Wearily, his shoulders hunched over, he set the knife back on the alter and turned to face the circle. "The circle is closed. Begin the ceremony."

The small figure escorted him to an open space in the circle. The figure then walked to the center of the circle, standing facing Rezo in front of the altar. She lifted her head and they saw the curve of a feminine chin. She wore a mask, but it did not restrict her face. The humming from the other members continued as the woman in the center of the circle broke out into a haunting melody.

Sango felt her heart move. The song was positively enchanting. She looked to Miroku for the interpretation, but he shook his head. He didn't understand it either. Looking back to the circle, she saw the woman handling bottles and incense and fire rather carelessly, throwing powders into the air so that it seemed to hang like a galaxy in the dim sky.

The music began rising into a climax. The four visitors felt themselves being swept up into it. In the middle of the circle, the woman's breathing was quick, and audible. That was when the tempo changed. Rather than continuing and completing the climax it began different. The speed increased and people began stomping their feet in tune to the sound. Miroku and Akane both felt their hearts beating in tune to the song. Ranma and Sango both felt as if something savage and primal were getting ready to rip out of them.

Miroku glanced over at Sango and saw that she was fingering her ears, which were delicately furred and pointed. "Sango! Sango are you all right?"

She shook her head. Her teeth were chattering, and she looked strange. She looked down at her own foot as if it were alien as it tapped up and down in beat to the music. "I... I can't help it. I want to change. I... I don't know why."

"It's the music," he realized. "Akane! Ranma! Don't listen to the music." Miroku swallowed. "It's hypnotizing."

Up at the front of the circle, Rezo was talking. "The circle is complete, and the spirit has entered the Red Priestess." He gestured to the circle, as if inviting one of the members to traverse into it.

One did, sliding across cautiously, holding a cup in his hands. It was the other figure who had come down with Rezo and the Red Priestess. In the center of the circle, the Red Priestess was looking around wildly; so wildly that her hood fell back, revealing tumbling black hair with the most delicate hint of a wave. She was snarling, the nose twitching wildly. Her hands looked like claws, and when she saw the man approaching her, she snarled. He held out a hand for her, and she stalled, still sniffing. Finally, she snarled and met him in the circle, reaching out and grabbing him.

Akane closed her eyes and turned away, fearing those delicate hands would have been granted some unholy power and blood would spill. Ranma held her close, but he didn't bother to look away. He was held riveted, but he couldn't believe it when the fragile feminine hand drew the man closed and kissed him passionately. She then took the cup he was holding and drank it greedily. Red stained her lips, and she licked at them in a way that even Sango and Akane could not blame Ranma and Miroku if they happened to think of sexual thoughts upon seeing it.

"What did she just drink?" Akane sniffled. Sango found it off that her partner was acting so frightened, but she could understand why. She didn't like it one little bit.

"The succubus has accepted the offering!" Rezo announced.

"Offering?" Akane echoed from the crook of Ranma's arm.

Sango was flabbergasted. Her hands still covering her ears, she shook her head. "A succubus? They summoned a succubus? I don't believe it!"

"I don't either," Miroku agreed. He glanced over at Sango. "I don't think you should watch anymore."

Whatever argument she was going to make was lost when the Red Priestess slid out of her robe. She stood in the center of the circle, apparently ignoring her state of undress. Snarling, she reached out and grabbed the robe of her partner. She ripped it from him, revealing his body, and a mass of tumbling silver hair. Sango gasped. She recognized that pale hair, and when she looked closer, she could see gold eyes in the holes of the white mask.

"Miroku," she whispered. "That man there... it's Inuyasha."

He didn't believe it. When Sango insisted, the man and woman in the circle now growling and circling each other, slashing without claws and inspecting each other, Miroku pointed out: "We've both seen Kagome and Inuyasha's types before. They're a happily married couple. Inuyasha would never cheat on his wife. You yourself said he was hopelessly devoted to her!"

Sango's voice was quiet. "So maybe he's not cheating on her. Maybe that woman is Kagome. Maybe Kagome is the Red Priestess." She pursed her lips, looking back on the figures. By now the Priestess had pinned Inuyasha to the altar and was kissing him rather fervently. Sango looked away, disgusted. She felt like she was watching something perverted. "I don't think there is a demon, really."

One of the coven members would have called Sango a disbeliever. They would have told Sango she had no sense of faith. She was too reasonable, too _scientific_. When she had to believe in something, she couldn't simply believe. She had to feel it, look at it, touch it. It had to be something she could measure and count and define. Sango would have disagreed with them, but in this particular case, Miroku thought that she was correct.

Maybe there was no demon. As he looked, watching the Red Priestess move and kiss Inuyasha on that silk-laden altar, and the other acolytes turn to each other, hands disappearing into robes and moans disrupting the chanting, Miroku agreed.

"My God... this isn't a coven! It's a _cult_! It's a cult..." His jaw dropped in surprise. He reached out and held Sango, directing her attention away. Even he was starting to blush from what was happening on the silk altar. "Don't look. We should go now, before things really get going. This has nothing to do with our case. It's all make-believe. These people don't summon in demons. It's all flash and hypnotism. Even the incense serves a purpose."

The feeling to go was mutual.

They found their own way to their rooms and changed back to their clothes and retrieved their firearms. All of them were filled with feelings of disappointment, but Miroku was filled with anger. Rezo had been his mentor. Now he was some kind of a monster. Miroku wanted nothing more to leave, but a familiar voice stopped him.

"Miroku?"

He stopped, shoulders stiff with anger. Turning, he saw Rezo standing behind him. The others stopped as well, but he motioned for them to go on. Akane and Ranma went on, but Sango lingered, watching. Miroku, his back to her, didn't notice, and Rezo said nothing about it. Miroku glared at Rezo.

"What the hell did you want?"

Rezo smiled patiently, matching Miroku's anger with gentle fatherly affection. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice my favorite student among my sheep tonight, Miroku? I was most pleased to see you here, you know, but I had always hoped I would be able to introduce you into this world myself. You see, you have a talent for the Old Ways. You took to the language like a fish to water. You love their philosophy. You're a natural. I did not want you to find out my religion for..."

"Religion?" Miroku laughed loudly, and Sango could hear the pain in his voice. "You drew people into your house, you use incense and repetition to fill their heads with nothingness, and then you have them perform sexual experiences on each other, _in front of other people_. It's disgusting! This _is not_ a religion, Rezo! It's on orgy cult!"

"I prefer thinking of it as an opportunity for people to explore sexually, to become something what they are not for an hour or two," Rezo said, the picture of self-control and gentlemanliness. "Take, for instance, what you saw tonight. I did not break up Inuyasha and Kagome. It's not as if I demanded that Kagome have carnal relations with someone other than her life-partner. They both accepted it. While the demon is inside Kagome, she is the dominant one in the relationship. Inuyasha gets to have his wife as the dominant sexual partner in their relationship and enjoy it. Do you think that sweet, silly little Kagome would ever be that aggressive without the demon inside her?"

Miroku shook his head, not finding it acceptable. "What are you getting out of all this, Rezo? I don't buy that you're suddenly interested in sexual counseling. What do you get out of it?"

Rezo said nothing.

"Do you recall what you taught me? The point of religion is self-betterment. Religion should aim to make people the best they can be and to make people more aware of their own possibilities. Religions we have today include things like the discipline of the mind, charity, forgiveness and pacifism! Your so-called religion teaches people better fornication, something they could learn from books or television or porn or even through goddamn communication! You took something that was special and intimate and that's supposed to make people feel good and you turned it into some sort of an event; you turned it into a spectacle for others to watch and masturbate to. You aren't helping people become the best they can do. You're helping them to think that they can't please their partners without the help of some ethereal being that takes over their bodies! Kagome isn't learning that Inuyasha wants her to be more aggressive or learning how to do it in a healthy way! Kagome isn't even in there anymore! It's all fake! It's all illusion!"

"And the Eucharist? What's that? What's enlightenment? What's the Holy Ghost or the purpose of music in ceremony? It's all the same, Miroku. Every religion, every ceremony, it's all about belief. If you believe that you are able to achieve enlightenment because Buddha loves you, it's not you at all. If you believe the Holy Ghost makes you capable to refrain from lashing out and lets you turn the other cheek, it's not you at all." Rezo slowly advanced on him, his head tilted slightly so he could hear Miroku's rapid breathing. "How are they any different from what I believe, Miroku?"

Miroku shook his head. His blue eyes were slowly filling up with tears of pain. Sango could hear him struggling to keep his voice open and to keep from getting violently angry. She could understand his pain, but only slightly. Someone Miroku had always admired, someone who had helped him learn, was manipulating people into things they wouldn't normally do. He was manipulating them into voyeurism, exhibitionism and sexual delinquency. There was nothing about self-betterment in this so-called religion. The sexual relationships it tried to encourage were unhealthy because they did not develop a relationship between the two people involved.

"If that... if that's all it is... then I don't want to believe in anything any more, Rezo!"

He tore away, running down the hall. When he spun around the corner he nearly collided into Sango. His eyes widened when he realized Sango had been listening in on the entire conversation. He seemed to have lost several years since the last time she had seen him. He looked more like a little kid who had just learned that Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy wasn't real. His cheeks darkened and he looked away, feeling guilty.

"I understand," she said gently. She reached out and touched his hair. It was light and soft. Miroku moved into the touch slightly. "I do. If someone I had admired I suddenly learned was part of a sexual cult, I don't think I could handle it. Especially if he wanted to admit me into it. Rezo did, you know. He just about admitted it to you." Sango smiled a little, trying to be helpful. "I bet I know why, too. If he could convince you that it was all real, of if you became his partner in crime, think of all the women he could suck into his cult!"

She saw the slightest smile appear on his face and she continued. "You're a good looking man, Miroku. I bet a lot of women would throw themselves into this cult if it meant that they could be intimate with you."

His smile broke into a real smile. He slowly slid against Sango, burying his nose against her neck and holding her close, as if she were a comforting teddy bear. "Thanks, Sango."

Holding him briefly she returned the hug until she felt him relax. "Come on." She untangled herself from him and took his hand, walking him down the hallway. "The others will be waiting for us. About what you said back there, though... do you think that maybe the reason why Rezo started this cult was because of his own sexual delinquencies? I mean, the guys pretty rich, but I bet that it would be hard to find women—or expensive to pay for women—who will put on displays for you to watch."

"No," Miroku said, shaking his head. "It's not that."

Sango blinked. "Are you... aw! Miroku! Don't try and tell me that you know how much it costs for a prostitute to..."

"No!" Miroku went as red as Sango usually got. Sango was impressed. True, it's not like Miroku was as flustered as she could get; in fact, he wasn't tongue-tied in the slightest. It was just nice to know that Miroku was capable in the first place of being embarrassed enough to turn red. "I didn't mean it like that. And no, since you brought it up, I have never been with a prostitute and nor do I like exhibitionism. Sex should be intimate and private, I think. I meant that Rezo can't be watching. He's not in it for his own sexual satisfaction."

"How can you be so sure?"

Miroku blinked, surprised, and looked down at her. "Didn't you notice? Rezo's eyes never moved once when he was talking to me. He wasn't even looking me in the eye. All these paintings are documents for show. He's showing off his money and his knowledge of rare documents. He's bragging. It's not like he enjoys them. Rezo's blind."

* * *

-To be continued… 


	27. The Date

Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Date

Miroku lounged in the lobby if the entrance to the Independent Bureau for Studies of the Paranormal. His feet slung lazily over the back of the chair, he was too deep in thought to bother paying attention to the way Urahara was pacing nervously back and forth, his cane striking the ground with every other step.

Though Miroku was clearly off in his own world, Urahara was paying attention to the younger man.Miroku was starting to irritate him. Finally, he stopped pacing and stood over Miroku, looking down into the younger man's frown. "Doesn't this entire set up bother you?"

Mirouk blinked, his grey-blue eyes returning to reality. "What? Sango going out on a date with some strange boy?" Urahara nodded and Miroku sat up in the chair, leaning his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands. "Of course it bothers me. I like Sango. I don't like the idea of her going out with another man, even if it is just a ruse. But at the same time, Sango's an adult. She's only a few years younger than me. She can take care of herself. The incident with the demons proved that. If this guy tries anything on Sango, she's going to beat the snot out of him…"

He trailed off, realizing the small irony in his statement. As much as he would like to see some jackass getting their just deserts for pushing Sango towards something she didn't want, he would be more than sympathetic to whatever she did to him, even if it was a kick in the shins. His psychic abilities wouldn't let him be anything but sympathetic to people in pain.

After a moment, he shrugged his shoulders, regarding Urahara curiously. "I would have thought you'd be used to this by now. I'm flirting with Sango too, you know. What happens if one day I ask her out and she accepts? Are you going to get this irritating and irritable then?"

Urahara pursed his lips. "I'd be hurt," he finally answered, with a small sigh. "I'd feel rejected because she hadn't picked me, but at the same time… you're not that bad. I could stand losing to you, Miroku. But not to _him_."

"What's the difference between us? We're both competitors."

He scratched his head, thinking for the right word. "We all may be _competing_ but at least you're not deranged. In fact, compared to Sango, despite how cruelly you may tease her sometimes, you're decent."

Miroku actually earnestly smiled at Urahara's compliment. He straightened up a little in the chair, looking more alive as his blue eyes filled with pride and his shoulders squared. "Thank you very much, sir."

For a moment Urahara smiled back, but then he saw the elevator open and fixed his attention upon it. Sango stepped out. Miroku saw Urahara's attention divert and he looked to see what he was staring at, and his jaw dropped so quickly Miroku feared he'd dislocated it.

"Don't laugh," Sango warned as she blushed and smoothed a wrinkle from her skirt. She nervously patted her hair to make sure the bobby pins were holding. "Kagome picked the outfit out. I don't think it's my style of clothing at all…"

Miroku grinned and was about to make another IBSP Barbie doll comment but Sango shot him a glare. They held it for a moment and then both of them looked away, their cheeks predominately red. Sango pulled the light knitted shawl around her shoulders up further. "I don't feel like myself at all."

"You don't look like yourself, either." Urahara offered her a kind smile and took her hand. "But you do look beautiful, Kitten. You're going to knock his socks off."

Sango's smile was a little tired, but happy. She enjoyed his compliment and felt it rebound in her stomach, making her feel warm and fuzzy. She held her head a little straighter, until she caught Miroku's gaze. His eyes were a stormy and moody grey-blue that made the warmth disappear. Sango felt goosebumps on her skin and shivered when Urahara held her hand. Miroku's pale skin and dark eyebrows were sharply contrasted against the way he looked at her. He didn't seem to be aware of anyone else but her.

She had never particularly thought of Miroku being strong before. Brave and stout worthy, yes. She thought, deep down, that he had bravery in spades. But he was always so quiet and well-spoken. Even when he got mad, it seemed more like he was lecturing rather than the over-blown yelling sprees she'd seen Ranma have in a fight with Akane. Miroku… had always just been _there_, like someone she could reach out and touch, but never fully reach.

For that singularly brief moment when she caught his eye and found herself the center of the world, and he was stronger than she had ever thought possible. For a brief moment, he was fully _there_ and she could read him as well as he read her with his empathy. For that single second, Sango was more aware of that spark in him that she loved and she watched it brighten and glow a thousand times over because she had walked into the room. She saw all of him in that second: his pride, his love, his jealousy, everything.

In the end, he was not so different from her.

* * *

Urahara was not unaware of the exchange between the two of them. It was hard to live as long as he had and not become aware of body language and expressions: all the slight pauses and pitches that revealed what people were feeling. He felt no anger or jealousy at the sudden admiration Sango found in herself for Miroku. Miroku, despite his empathy, was quite unaware of what he had done which made Sango suddenly turn beet red. 

It was beside the point that Sango didn't quite understand it herself. Urahara did, and that was all that mattered at the moment. He would perhaps have to talk about it to one, or possibly both, of them. God help Miroku. If only knew what he was getting into…!

Despite his outwards, youthful appearance, never had Urahara felt so old as when he and Miroku were setting Sango up with a small camera and a tape recorder. The devices were small, and they would send everything into the actual recorders, which were in the van. As Miroku was affixing the camera to Sango's dress, Urahara suddenly jumped when he heard Sango's hand connect with Miroku's cheek.

"You pervert! You did that on purpose!"

Miroku, rather bravely, admitted: "Of course I did, Sango. How could I possibly resist the allure of your bountiful bosom?"

Urahara shook his head as he heard the sound of another slap. When those two were together sometimes they acted like ten year olds. On Miroku's behalf, it was a very lewd ten year old. And then, surprisingly, on other occasions, they had the potential to be one of the most complimentary teams Urahara had ever seen. But, judging from the sound of palm hitting cheek, Sango had lost the respect she had felt for Miroku a moment ago.

One step forward, two steps backward, so the saying goes.

* * *

"What will you be having this evening?" The snooty waited peered down his nose at Akane and Ranma as they gave the menus a final deliberation. Teenagers! He eyed the tattered appearance of Ranma's suit and how the poor boy looked uncomfortable in it: they were obviously second hand clothes. 

Ranma sighed and put down the menu. "A glass of water and the chef salad, please."

Across from him, Akane pursed her lips, hiding behind the menu. She had seen Ranma eat before. A chef salad would last his stomach all of about an hour before he was hungry again. Glancing at the price under the salad, she knew why. The salad he'd ordered was the cheapest thing on the menu, and even that was pricey. Ranma's financial situation was even worse than her own, as he had admitted to her. Student loans didn't leave as much room for frivolities as they once did.

Lowering the menu a twitch, she whispered to him, "You know, we didn't elect to come here. We were told to come here. That means that we're on company time." She winked at him, but he didn't seem to get it. Sighing, Akane leaned over in his direction a little more. "Ranma, _the boss_ has to handle the check."

For a moment he appeared confused, and then his dark eyes sparked to life. His grin was stretched from ear to ear as he turned back to the waiter. "I'll have the steak, well done, please, with a side serving of salad and an extra helping of vegetables. Oh, and go really heavy on whatever sauce you use on the meat. I'd still like the glass of waiter, but some apple juice as well, please."

The waiter looked a bit more pleased as he took the order, until Ranma mentioned the apple juice. He arched an eyebrow and peered down his nose again. Ranma was, frankly, beginning to wonder if there was a special class for waiters to take to perfect that expression. "May I suggest a nice red wine with a full body to compliment our steak?"

Ranma shook his head. "You can, but I won't accept it. Apple juice is fine for me, but if it will make you feel like you're doing your job, you can feel free to put it in a white wine glass."

Akane blushed with mortification. He had been so polite, and then it disappeared! Ranma had been trying to be funny, but the had been waiterinsulted. Sniffing loudly, he turned to Akane. When he looked at her, his expression softened a little. There was no trace there of the tom boy that had been threatening to beat Ranma with her purse if he didn't fix his tie. "And what would the lady like?"

Handing him the menu she brushed back a stray hair. "I'll have the fish please, and a side salad." Not wishing to be insulting, she looked across the table at Ranma and offered him a small smile. "And I think I'll have the apple juice too, please."

The waiter sniffled, but did not try to talk her out of it. Taking Ranma's menu, he told them he'd bring their drinks shortly and disappeared.

Akane was quiet before she asked, "Why didn't you accept the wine? It's not like the Insti… it's not like it can be afforded."

Ranma shrugged. "I don't drink."

Akane laughed. "Nonsense! You're a boy in university! Of _course_ you drink!"

"No, I don't," he repeated, looking insulted that she hadn't believed him. "I never touch the stuff. I'm a fighter, Akane. I've seen what alcohol does to fighters. It slows down their reflexes. Any power and speed the do have left is ill-directed because they're drunk off their ass. And they become addicted to it. It becomes everything to them. I don't want to be like that." His lips thinned and he frowned down at his plate. "I've seen it first hand."

She didn't really know what to say to that, so Akane simply leaned over and touched his hand gently. The muscles were tight, but they relaxed enough at her touch for her t slip her hand into his. She felt herself blushing, but she didn't look away from him. "I think that's really admirable of you, Ranma."

Akane was taken off guard when Ranma's cheeks began to turn as red as hers. He shifted his weight nervously and, under the covers of the table cloth, his leg brushed hers. Akane hooked her foot around his so he couldn't move away, and Ranma relaxed as much as he looked more uncomfortable. The candlelight didn't help either.

"You don't like it?" she asked, sounding surprised.

Ranma gave a sputtering response, and then ducked his head. His hair was a bit browner than Miroku's, she noticed then. In the candle light, the reflection turned his highlights auburn, where Miroku's would have seen more blue. Ranma gathered his thoughts and sighed, admitting: "I don't like girls."

It felt like a slap in the face. He was gay? All this time she had been thinking about… about… about _him_ and laughing with him and teasing him and getting beaten by him, and he was _gay_? Akane felt like a fool! She withdrew herself, pulling her hand away. Then she had a sudden thought. Arching an eyebrow, she asked, "You and Miroku aren't… are you?"

"What?"

"Are you?"

"Are we what?" he asked, sounding frustrated.

Akane sighed. "You know, Ranma."

He shook his head. He didn't know.

Rolling her eyes, she leaned over the table. "You and Miroku aren't… oh… you… look, you two aren't lovers, aren't you? Because if you are then someone might want to tell Sango!"

Ranma looked at her like she was mad. "Lovers? He's my partner. Where did you get a craz… oh." Yes, it had come from him. Ranma's cheeks were dark red; redder than Akane had usually seen Sango turn around Miroku. "No, we're not… I mean… It wouldn't surprise me if Miroku were bi, but… I mean! Arg!" He scratched his head, and then found a place to start. "I'm not a homosexual, Akane. I just… I never liked girls much before. I was always training, you know? I didn't have time for dating and I was never any good at flirting at all. Miroku's tried to teach me. He thinks the cure for any ailment is a good roll in the sack, but… I was never any interested in anybody on campus. And frankly, Akane, I have trouble keeping up in class as it is. A girl would only just get in the way…"

For a moment, Akane had hope. Then she felt it deflate again. She'd never heard the brush off, personally, but she knew it well enough from books and television. She nodded, her eyes cold. "I see."

"…so it's why I'm so nervous around you."

"Because I like you?"

"Yes," he replied, nodding.

Akane fidgeted. "I suppose I can try not liking you."

"Do you suppose that would help?"

"I don't know… we are talking about you not liking me back, right?"

Ranma was surprised. He frowned again. Akane tucked away a thought, promising to wonder why he only smiled when he teased her later. "Who ever said that I didn't like you? I just wanted to say that I felt uncomfortable around you. I mean, when it comes to girls I'm a klutz. I can walk on a tightrope, but ask me to even go out somewhere with a girl, and I'll make a mess of things. At least you're consistent." The corners of his mouth turned up. "You're always a klutz."

"Oh, bite me," she growled, laughing.

He seemed to take her laughter the wrong way. "I mean it. I don't know what to do with girls. I mean, I do. Physically. Miroku made me diagrams and everything…" He rolled his eyes and suppressed a groan at the memory. "But… there you are, and you've probably gone out on lots of dates and stuff, because you're pretty and everything, and I don't even know which fucking fork to use."

Akane sat up straighter in her seat suddenly. The blush growing across her cheeks was becoming, and Ranma found himself suddenly paying more attention when her blue eyes began to dance. "Say that again?"

"I don't even know which fuc---"

"No!" she laughed. The sound was rich and hearty. "The part before that, Ranma."

"Um… I said…" He looked away and gathered her courage, which was little when it came to girls. Remembering the way that she looked at him, though, Ranma managed to find enough of it to lift his head and repeat himself. "I called you… pretty… and stuff."

Akane's smile was a beautiful one, out of pure delight. "Ranma, thank you."

* * *

"You look fine, honey. Don't worry." Ferio smiled lovingly at his wife, reaching out to gently caress her cheek with his hand. A slight curl was wrapped around her ear, and in the flickering candlelight it seemed to be nothing more than a ghostly wisp of gold. 

Fuu patted her other cheek. She was still pale from trying to cope with the loss of her sister. Her face had thinned out, if only slightly. Delicate lines framed her emerald eyes and soft mouth, and Ferio wondered if he had them to match yet. He didn't like those lines, and he didn't like the way her cheek bones stood out more. Since Hilde had died, Ferio had had to stand over Fuu to make sure that she ate, otherwise, Fuu would just sit their numbly on the couch, staring at old pictures that haunted her even when she was asleep.

Tonight was supposed to be different. She wasn't supposed to look so far away. He wanted his sharp, bright-eyed Fuu back, the girl who danced and laughed and made the world shine to him. She had been eager to get out of the house and help Sango, but now she seemed to be apprehensive. He recognized the feelings hiding underneath her visage. Guilt. She felt _guilty_ that she was out with her husband at a nice restaurant, and Hilde would never get that opportunity; that she was out while her niece sat with Sesshomaru at the office in unhealthy silence.

"I shouldn't be here," she said.

"Yes, you should." He leaned over their little table and kissed her cheek. "You belong here, with me. You always have and you always will. Why do you think I moved halfway around the world and learned a new language just to be with you?'

She blushed prettily, her deep green eyes darting away from his face for a moment. Then she sighed, sounding relieved. Ferio felt her relax. "Thank you, Ferio. Oh." Her eyes widened when she glanced behind him at the door. She smiled warmly, staring beyond him. "There's Miss Sango. Miss Sango looks quite pretty tonight, doesn't she? Her mother would be so proud of her. I know I am."

Ferio looked at the door and smiled also. "She certainly does look pretty." He grinned broadly, turning back to his wife. He loved how she made him feel young, like he was in the prime of his life with world at his fingertips, and he was head over heels in love. He brushed Fuu's leg flirtatiously and lowered his voice, nothing more than a gossipy parent thrilled at his son's choice in women. "It's no wonder our little Miroku likes her…"

At his choice in words, Fuu's expression softened. "Ferio… our Miroku isn't little anymore. He's going to be done university in two years. Sango will be a good influence on him, but… I don't want her to be. I want him to be the irate fifteen year old we adopted again." She shook her head slowly. "And then there's Urahara to think about too…"

"They aren't our problems, though. We have to let them work these things out for themselves. I'm just glad he's maturing enough to stop liking all those trollops he used to bring to our house."

He spoke to his wife, but he watched Sango. He watched her glance around and then spy a table with an empty seat. He watched the man at the table, dressed in a stylishly cut black suit, rise to meet Sango. His eyes narrowed a little.

Fuu still found it odd to see her husband wearing his contacts and the wash-out black dye in his hair, turning it a shade of brown. She had trouble reading him when she couldn't see his real eyes, and she disliked using her powers on Ferio.

"I don't think I like that man," he finally said, as Suichiro hugged a very stiff Sango. "Can you pick up on anything from him? Any malevolent thoughts or honesty?"

Fuu shook her head. Pushing her glasses back into place, she took a sip of water. After the brief break, she tried again, pursing her lips and drawing her eyebrows together out of confusion. She stopped soon after, sighing and shaking her head. Small flecks of gold danced in her bangs from the lighting. "I can't."

"What?" Ferio laughed merrily before he realized it was a little mean to do so. His eyes seemed, for a moment, to shine they way they normally did as he looked at her mischievously. He smiled at her and even after years of marriage, of being around him, Fuu blushed and felt her heart rate pick up. "Fuu, you're the strongest telepath I know…"

"I'm the _only_ telepath you know," she sweetly pointed out.

Ferio's smile now positively devilish. Fuu felt herself relax. It was hard to be nervous when Ferio was in such a teasing mood. His wit and charm made her smile in return. It had been a long time since she had seen the flirtatious side of Ferio, and she missed it. "That still makes you the very best. Try again, please."

She did try again, just for him. "I can't."

"Then you must not be trying hard enough. I know you can do it! Fuu…"

"_No_!" she interrupted, raising her voice. She rarely raised her voice, so when she did, people paid attention. She blushed deeper than ever. When she spoke again, her voice was her normal delicate, dulcet tone. "I mean it, Ferio. I can't do it. This isn't some kind of a psychological thing. Every time I reach for his mind, it's like… it's like I hit a glass wall. I know there are thoughts there. I can see them, but the glass pane distorts them and keeps me from reading them."

"Oh…"

She frowned, taking a sip of water. "One thing is true, though. I don't like him either. Something seems… off about him."

At the other table, Sango had drawn that same conclusion. Sitting across from Suichiro, it took all of her self-control not to walk out and give up. On the bright side, she was too occupied to be afraid. She was occupied making sure she sat just-so, and moved her mouth in a certain way, and not looking too bored. She also had to try damn hard to keep from scratching where the wires were hidden under her dress. They itched.

"I've taken the liberties to order supper for us," Suichiro announced.

"Oh, fine. I'm sorry that I'm a little late. I had trouble getting my hair just right."

"I think it turned out beautifully." He folded his large hands on the crimson table cloth, smiling at her. His teeth were pearl white in his tanned face. "So you wanted to talk about Iras, did you? I don't know how much help I'll be…"

"Why not?" Sango forced herself to smile. "You two were dating, weren't you?" _Dating her and flirting with me at the same time… oh, Suichiro! You sound just like Miroku. You two are cut from the same cloth, aren't you?_

"We weren't really dating. We were lovers. It was a purely sexual relationship."

"And she was okay with that?"

Suichiro nodded. "She was. But the real reason why I don't think I can help is that I already told those cops. You know? I already told them what I knew about her. The ones from the IBSP."

Sango's eyes widened. She couldn't help it. She hadn't expected that as an answer. It couldn't be avoided now. There was no way to pretend she hadn't reacted to the name of her employers. Instead, her eyes narrowed and she dropped her strained smile. It turned into a fine sneer when she noticed he was smirking. "I see. How long have you known?"

"It's very hard to pretend to be fully human when you're not. It's always the little things that give you away: the way you brush back your hair from your face, the way you lick your lips, the way you eat and crack your knuckles. It's even in the way you tap your foot, as if it were your tail. I always knew you had some connection to the IBSP. I didn't realize how much until you started asking all those questions about Iras. That's when I figured out you were one of their gumshoes."

Sango was about to wet her lips, and stopped. The things he had listed made her feel very uncomfortable. She felt chills run up and down her spine. "I see… and _you_ know about the IBSP because… of _what_ exactly?"

He smiled at her and was silent as the waiter brought their drinks. Red wine. Sango didn't touch hers, but he had a sip before he answered. "I have… unique talents."

As he talked, Sango began to pray that Miroku and Sango were getting everything Suichiro said.

* * *

In the van sitting opposite the restaurant, machines whirled and two men sat bunched uncomfortably in the back with headphones on. Both of them exchanged a glance.

* * *

"Yes," Suichiro continued. "It's like… animal magnetism, quite literally. It's not just good looks that make women like me, of course." 

"Of course," she agreed dryly. "Is that how you managed to get together with Iras? This… animal magnetism?"

He shook his head. "No. We were together because she was like me. A psychic. Well, more correctly, she was a witch, so she wasn't like me at all. But we were both different… special in a world full of mortals, both the same age, both sharing a love of education and art of sophisticated society… Her covens specialized in charms." He reached around his neck and revealed a slender silver chain. "I still wear one of the ones she made me. We bonded, became friends, and soon, lovers." His eyes shadowed over for a moment. "And then she was tragically murdered.

"But do you know what I liked most about her?" he inquired, smiling at Sango.

A few tables over, Fuu shuddered. She glanced over to Sango's table, whispering to her husband. "Something's wrong. There's a lot… there's a lot of negative energy over there."

"Tell Miroku and Urahara."

But Miroku had already been picking up on it. Pressing the headphones closer to his ears, he had ignored everything else but the tones and words used by Suichiro. I also served to hide his nervously shaking hands. His eyes, more gray than anything in the dim light of the car, stared off into nothingness. "His voice has changed pitch and speed," he reported. "His tone's changed. His more forceful. He's trying to control the conversation. And he's either agitated or excited. I can't tell which one yet."

Urahara was impressed. He made notes, adjusting the small television screen so Miroku could see Suichiro's face. "Okay. Fuu's picked up on the same."

"Do you think we should go in yet?"

Urahara pursed his lips, thought, and shook his head. "Sango's an adult. She can take care of herself, and we have plenty of back up. A good friend of mine pointed that out to me. If this guy wants to talk so badly, we're going to let him talk, and we're going to listen."

Miroku understood, but he still looked like he didn't think much of Urahara's answer. As politely as he could, he asked, "Sir. Sango was scared of going on this date. I know she was. She can't hide what she feels from me, and neither can you. You don't think much about this situation either. What happened that made Sango so scared? Normally she's not afraid of anything."

"I know, Miroku. I know. But it's not my place to tell. Besides, we have a job to do. Don't get distracted. I want to know the moment that man starts lying."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

"Why did you like her the most?" Sango inquired. She didn't like the way he was leading the conversation, and she could think of no way for her to take control over it. Sango put up with it, but barely. Her back straight, her painted lips thin, it was obvious she was uncomfortable, but Suichiro didn't seem to notice. Let Suichiro take her where he would for now. She'd find out what he knew sooner or later. 

"Because she was strong. _So_ strong, Sango. I like strong women. That's why I like you. You're strong, like her. I like women who are independent. The fact that you're beautiful is just a bonus. I've always thought you were beautiful. I hated it when all those jerks picked on you in high school." He paused and lowered his voice. He took in a deep breath, whispering to her. "I used to beat them up for you, you know."

Sango's voice was gentle. "I know."

His eyes widened and he looked earnestly hurt. "You never said anything about it to me! I never got so much as a thank you!"

"I know."

"Why?"

Sango shrugged. "It wasn't your fight. I never wanted your help."

He chuckled and drew away, smiling. "There you are being strong again. Biting, I'd say." He reached over and touched the hand laying on the table next to the full wine glass. "And my powers never got me you. I used them on you, you know. I'm not above that. I knew that if I could just get you to open a teeny, tiny bit, you'd see how much I cared for you. How much I respect you. But you never reacted to them. It drove me mad! Sometimes, I thought I'd sell my soul just to get a kind word from you."

* * *

"Sango feels very uncomfortable," Miroku reported. 

"How can you tell? She isn't even talking right now." Miroku turned to look at Urahara and explain to him of the growing powers that alerted him, but he stopped when he saw how pale Urahara was. His face was as flaxen as his hair. He, too, knew that Sango was uneasy. He had only hoped that he was being paranoid and Miroku could somehow alleviate those fears. Instead, Miroku had reaffirmed them.

* * *

"Suichiro…" Sango's heart was pounding. She looked up into his eyes and flinched away. His stare was unnerving. His eyes were so dark they looked black and they didn't seem to reflect candlelight at all. She focused instead on the hand laying over hers. "Please, let go." 

"Why?"

She fidgeted. "It makes me uncomfortable." She felt like throwing the glass of red wine in his face, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. There was a large difference in what Sango wanted to do, what she had to do to remain polite, and what she could not do. Her skin was covered in goose bumps. She felt silly and vulnerable, and she hated that feeling. She hated, more than anything at that moment, Suichiro.

Besides, she could sense something, as if she had somehow stolen Miroku's ability. She could feel the truth a scant few inches away. All she had to do was hang on for a bit longer, and she would be able to know the truth.

Their dinner had arrived. Sango didn't look at it. Neither did he. Neither of them thanked their water. They simply stared at each other; he at her face and she at his loathed hand on hers. He didn't let go of it. Their waiter, ignorant to the entire situation, left indignantly with his nose in the air.

"You don't like it when I touch you?" he asked after the waiter had left.

"I don't like it when anybody touches me," she hissed, a low growl lodged in her throat.

Suichiro released her hand. He picked up his fork, but he didn't eat. "What else do you want to know about Iras? Whom I think killed her? Why? Her friends? Her family? Potential enemies? Rival covens? _I_ do have a suspect, you know. I think I know who killed her. I think I know why, and how. His name's Miroku. He was always coming to our school and flirting with all our girls. He's a sleaze and a player and the whole campus knows it. She said no to him. I bet she did!"

Sango showed no recognition at the name. When he stopped talking, she tried to get him to continue. "Miroku?"

* * *

In the car, on the other hand, Miroku heard what was said about him and stood up so fast he struck his head on the ceiling and fell flat on his ass. "Ow!" Rubbing his head, he growled at the television. "I never flirted with anybody from their damned school! What's he getting at?" 

"Shh." Urahara held up his hand. He was watching Suichiro eat. "Fuu, what's he eating?" The answer was silent, given only to Urahara. The next thing Miroku knew, Urahara was yelling into his mouthpiece. "Fuu! Tell Sango I'll be at the entrance waiting for a sign from you. All she needs to do is say the word, and I'll come in and get her. Get Ferio to the front. I want to see that guestbook!"

Miroku stood up, this time remembering the large ceiling. "What? What is it?"

"He ordered the same thing Eve had before she died. He was there, in that restaurant, before she died."

"He just about admitted to that!" Miroku yelled. It was his turn for playing Devil's Advocate.

Urahara turned on him, his blue eyes all but glowing. Even his teeth looked sharper than normal. Miroku was startled when he saw it. "Do you remember the profile you made up for the killer, Miroku? Male. Suichiro is male. Good-looking and charming. Suichiro is those things and to boot he's admitted that he has a power not unlike Kagura's that allows him to entice people closer to him. Mentally deranged. I'd say Suichiro's pretty damn close. Knowledge of forensics and surgery? I don't know about forensics, but I can tell you that Suichiro is in the same program that Sango is. She's in the science program, but while she likes chemistry and mechanics, Suichiro's in it to get his medical degree." He paused, taking a deep breath to calm himself. "I'm taking that boy in for questioning."

Miroku felt the color drain from his face. Urahara stalked off, leaving Miroku to untangle himself from the headphones and chase after him. "Oy! I'm coming too!"

* * *

Fuu had been relaying the conversations she heard in the car to Sango. Sango knew that Urahara and Miroku were ready to walk into the restaurant and play the role of her family taking her away. Despite Suichiro admitting that he had brought Eve to the restaurant, she had never thought it was on the night before she was killed. 

Looking down at her plate confirmed it. There, laying on her plate, sat a steak. It was the same expensive meal Eve had had before she died. Her _last_ meal. Suichiro had seen Eve on the night before she died. He had also been the last one to see Iras alive before she died.

She tried to keep herself under control. She tried to herself it was just coincidence, but she couldn't believe it. Suichiro _did_ match the profile they had made for the killer, and yet she refused to accept that she was sitting across from a man capableof ripping a woman open like that.

"All I'd need is to know where to find Miroku. I'm sure I could make him confess." He paused and watched her, then continued flippantly. "He's insane, you know. His whole family is insane. It's like a disease. He's contaminated."

"Eve?" she whispered, still staring down at her plate. Though a whisper, he heard it.

"Eve. Ah, yes. The other university student who was killed. Miroku liked her too, you know. But, like Iras, she turned him down. Instead, she chose me. Why…" His eyes opened, but Sango could tell the action was faked. It was beautifully performed, but the shock only reached his face. His skin didn't pale nor did his body flinch. His eyes opened and his lips parted and he gasped. It was faked. "He might come after _me_ next. He kills girls because he turns them down. He's insane. And those girls come to me instead. I might be next. He might just decide to get rid of the problem…"

Sango had lost it. She could scarcely believe that he had the gall to sit there and make accusations about her friend and partner. Miroku was _not_ insane and he was _not_ the killer. She was so worried about defending him, she never stopped to think about why he felt he had to accuse Miroku, or how he knew about who Miroku liked. Or why, for that matter, he would even think Sango knew where to find him. "Miroku's a descent person! He'd never do anything like that!"

Slowly, a smug grin spread over Suichiro's face. "Oh, so you _do_ know him. Oh, I hope he doesn't like you, though I'm sure he does. It's all but impossible _not_ to like you. Besides that, we seem to have the same taste in women. Where can I find him? Can you introduce us?" He reached out, taking her hand as if pleading with her. This time, Sango found his grip was tight and uncomfortable.

"Stop that!" she snapped. She tried pulling her hand away discreetly, but he didn't let go. All she had to do was knock over her glass of water and help would come. She didn't want to. She wanted to stay and get to the bottom of the mystery Suichiro was presenting to her, she just wanted him to let go of her hand.

Miroku, on the other hand, watching from the door leading to the entrance of the restaurant, had had enough. He saw Sango squirm in her seat when Suichiro touched her and he watched her try to pull away. When Suichiro didn't have the decency to let go of Sango's hand, Miroku decided it was time intervene. No one treated a lady like that. No one dared treat _Sango_ like that.

Urahara and Ferio were too busy requesting the guestbook from the maitre d' to notice what he was trying to do.

Drawing himself up to his full height and squaring his shoulders, suddenly looking more healthier and stronger then the bags under his eyes and thin cheeks would suggest, Miroku walked to the table. Sango was too busy glaring at Suichiro to see him, and the latter was still complaining about Miroku's dating habits. His voice was as deep as he could naturally make it, sounding older with the tinge of authority.

"Sango. Let's go.

About to rise, the hand on hers stopped her. Suichiro wasn't going to let her leave. He glared up at Miroku. "Who the hell would you be?"

As Miroku introduced himself as Sango's brother, expertly reciting off their fabricated story that Sango had broken her curfew, Sango sat and thought. Suichiro had spent how long bad mouthing Miroku without knowing what he looked like? Sango could smell it now. The whole date stank of a trap. Her eyes darted along the other tables, but the only people even remotely looking their way were her friends. Despite the appearance of a man in jeans in a fancy restaurant loudly proclaiming his sister had to come home, the other patrons were too absorbed in their own dates and dinners to pay attention.

When her gaze came back to their table, she studied Miroku and Suichiro. They did look remarkable similar. It was easy to see how something appealing in one could be shared by the other. Both had dark hair, Miroku's tinged with blue and Suichiro's a little warmer of a shade, more like Ranma's. Miroku's eyes were a fierce gray, and Suichiro's so dark they seemed more black than anything. Suichiro had a taller built and was more muscular, but Miroku was more graceful for those who didn't like broad shoulders.

At that moment, Sango had never been so attracted to Miroku. His gray eyes were filled with rage, and his sensuous mouth was pulled into a thin line. He was practically growling his anger, his lips now and then revealing white teeth which suddenly seemed too predatory to be normal. He looked beautiful when he was mad. His anger wasn't just in his expression, but woven throughout his entire body. His fingers were curling, getting ready to strike in defense. Even his hair seemed mad, as the air conditioner made it move over his forehead and eyes. The most astonishing thing about it, however, was not its potency, but that it was directed in her defense. He was getting ready to fight to defend _her _from Suichiro.

'Where's Suichiro's other hand?' One was resting on hers on the table. The other hand disappeared under the tablecl…

Sango heard a gun's safety click into the off position. She felt her heart begin to beat harder and her lips were suddenly very dry. She glared at Suichiro, and he smirked at her. She knew exactly where that gun was pointed. Rather than looking scared, she glared at him with even more potency. Inside was another matter entirely.

"Miroku…" He glanced her way out of surprise. She'd blown their cover story.

Her date smirked. "Good. He matched the description I had for Miroku, but I wasn't a hundred percent sure. Thank you for your assistance, Sango." He glanced up triumphantly at Miroku. "Eve talked about you quite a bit."

"Bite me. Let go of Sango." He cracked his knuckles, trying to appear frightening. Somehow, it didn't seem quite so threatening now that Sango knew a gun was involved. Sango could smell the feelings coming off of him, and he could pick up on hers. He didn't understand the fear, though. He looked over at her as he noticed her breathing was off balance. The fear had increased since he'd walked into the room. He blinked innocently. "Sango?"

She swallowed. Suichiro turned to look at her, gloating at his moment of triumph. "Miroku, maybe you should pull up a chair or something." She glared at her date. She hated him and she latched on to that feeling. It drove her now. "There's a gun under the table pointed at me and unless you stop making a scene, he might set it off."

At Fuu's table, the glass she held slipped from her grasp out of surprise. The sound of breaking glass and the mess it made on the carpeted floor was more of a distraction than Miroku's voice had been. As the employees hurried to clean it up and fetch a new glass, Suichiro made their getaway.

"In the middle of public?" Miroku was demanding. Suichiro had Sango by the arm, his gun hidden between their close bodies. The nozzle dug into her side and Sango had to walk with him. Miroku stood in front, his muscles tight with anger, but Sango could tell he was afraid. His heart was beating so loudly she could hear it. "Listen, buddy, we've got agents all over the place."

"All I need is a heart. I've had this thing planned for awhile. I've even pre-paid the meal so we can just walk right out."

And they did. They walked right out as Urahara and Ferio hid themselves in the small office by the entrance. They were too afraid waiting out front that they would react and endanger Sango and Miroku. Because they loved those two junior agents, they dared not rush in and attack.

"I'm quite sorry about this Sango," Suichiro whispered into Sango's ear. "I really do want to go out with you. I wasn't lying about that in the slightest, but business before pleasure. I hope that this won't put a damper on our relationship."

Somehow, they made it outside into the parking lot. Sango was struggling a bit with him, her heels more of a pain than he had expected. Still, she walked with her head held high, which was something both Suichiro and Miroku could admire. "You were after Miroku all along. You knew he was listening and used me to get to him."

"The fact that he was here and came out is a result of his own stupid, dumb luck. But I was going to use him to get you. Insanity does run in Miroku's family." Sango thought she heard the other man growl at the insinuation. "I knew he worked at the IBSP, like you. I thought that if I convinced you that he was a potential criminal, then I could trick you into bringing himsomewhere where I could simply take him off your hands for you."

She was about to ask about the others—Iras, Eve, and the old Chinese monk—but he kept talking. "You shouldn't flatter yourself and jump to conclusions so quickly, Miss Tora. I really _am_ sorry about this, Sango. I like to think of myself of being a nice guy. It's just that I also happen to be a loyal, proud supported of Shabranigdo. When the demon lord his reborn into this world, I will be proudly rewarded. I don't suppose you could learn to love a succubi or a vampire, could you?" He batted his eyelashes at her.

"Fuck you!" she snapped, her cheeks red with anger.

He laughed heartily at her attempt to oppose him.

It was dark by now. Sango put up as much resistance as she could, blaming her heels and trying to stall their arrival at the car parked by the restaurant. She stopped when he squeezed her arm so hard it hurt and the edge of the nozzle jutted between her ribs. When she suddenly felt his other hand patting down her jacket, she swore she had been about to scream. When his hand ran over her breast, she jumped and turned to slap him. It was pure instinct. So too were the claws that popped out as she called him a pervert. Suichiro didn't respond fast enough, and his cheek turned red. Even Miroku turned and stopped at the sound.

Her body shook, barely controlled. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

"Looking for your handcuffs. All good junior cops carry them, don't they? I'm not going to take you with me. I'm going to leave you outside, handcuffed to the car next to mine, and your friends can take care of you."

Sango would have preferred going with them, given the darkness closing in on them. She pulled at the hem of her dress, regretting now more than ever the outfit Akane had selected. Why couldn't she have been wearing pants? She'd feel much less likethe perfect potentialrape victim in pants!

He lifted a hand to his cheek, finding the surface slippery with blood. "Though I have to admit that right now, I'm really debating bringing you with me."

Miroku laughed. "You know, I could have warned you about that…"

"Shut up!" Suichiro barked. He turned back to Sango, furious, and grabbed her by her hair. "Fine. You're coming too then. We can always use some more blood for the ceremony."

For a split second, that gun was off of Sango and pointed harmlessly down at the floor. Miroku seized his opportunity. Sango, her face angled towards the ground as Suichiro tried to drag her, nearly peed herself when she heard a gun go off. She waited for the searing pain from being shot, but felt nothing. Instead, she heard a gun drop to the ground, clattering there.

"Let go of Sango."

The gun spun into Sango's view. Suichiro was unarmed. In the future, Miroku could only say that Sango moved like fire. He was never quite sure exactly what she did to Suichiro to drop him so quickly. Only that it was fast, effective, and devastating.

She backed away from the body on the ground, scooping up the gun laying forgotten on the pavement. Her hands were shaking. She turned to face Miroku and found he looked like shit. His face was ghostly white in the night, and he looked furious. In his hands he held his gun, a thin band of smoke still curling from the nozzle. He glanced at her and pocketed his gun, pulling out his handcuffs.

Sometimes, Sango found it hard to believe that Miroku was a junior agent like she was. He did things differently, he specialized in a different area. He seemed to like to talk too much to have gone through the rigorous training Kakashi believed in. Watching him, Sango felt like she was seeing someone new in Miroku. It was like he was showing her the side of him that could be fierce and violent and professional all at the same time. Within seconds, the unconscious Suichiro was in handcuffs on the pavement.

Sango breathed a sigh of relief and lowered the weapon. She looked up to smile at Miroku, wondering where he had learned to be so precise as to shoot a gun from another's grasp, but he was suddenly _there_. His arms wrapped around her shoulders and his lips landed on hers and he kissed her. His hear twas still pounding furiously and she could feel it echo in her chest.

His hands fumbled at her cheeks and he drew his face up to hers. "Are you okay, Sango? He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"N… no." His lips descended again and then he leaned his forehead against hers, holding her gently. The gun in Sango's hands, pointed harmlessly away, still shook.

"Where did you learn to do that?" he inquired. She saw him smile. "If a man like that had been holding a gun to me, I think I would have peed myself. I don't think I could have fought back."

Sango managed to smile as well. "I think I almost did when you shot him. But I could do it because I'm a girl. That's the first thing Akane and I learned was how to throw a man down and knock him out if he grabbed you."

Pulling her jacket closer, she glanced down at Suichiro. She didn't try to pull away from Miroku. "I guess this means the case is over."

"Not quite," Miroku pointed out. "We still don't know _why_ they wanted me, do we? But at least we can assume he killed Eve. Kakashi will have to interrogate him when he wakes up. I don't think he killed Iras. They were lovers, weren't they? It's very hard to kill someone you're intimate with." He looked up, noticing Urahara and Ferio running towards them. He backed away from Sango. "Parents are here."

"Urahara is _not_ my parent," she snarled.

"He's old enough to be."

Miroku lifted a hand to his heart, rubbing the skin over it unconsciously. Sango noticed it. She arched en eyebrow. "Miroku? Are you…." She stopped as she found herself rushing to catch him as he fell back. His whole body was shaking and cold to the touch. Sango felt the blood drain for her face, leaving her lips trembling. "Miroku? Miroku! Come on! Snap out of this! Don't…"

She stopped when she saw his wrists, skin disappearing in front of her eyes as if something invisible were rubbing it raw. Sango turned to see Ferio and Urahara standing over her. Both of them were pale as well, their eyes visible in the darkness because of the whites surrounding them.

"Was he shot?" Urahara asked. He had never seen one of Miroku's visions before. Sango shook her head no and he looked relieved. Ferio was already fumbling for his cell phone, trying to call an ambulance. Urahara knelt down beside Sango, helping her by alleviating some of the weight Miroku was placing on her.

"Why is he doing this? We have the killer! We have the person who killed Eve! Urahara?"

She looked at him for help, and it broke his heart that he could offer none. Supporting Miroku's head with one hand he wrapped the other hand over Sango's shoulders. He glanced over atSuichiro's handcuffed body slumped over the pavement. "I wish I knew, Kitten."

* * *

To be continued... 


	28. The Parents

AN: Another disclaimer. The idea of Ranma being against alcohol is from The Taming of the Horse, the best Ranma/Akane fic ever! To find it, just google it or look it up on Yahoo! It's its own website. Enjoy1

Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Parents

In the beginning, there was Sango.

Sango, in the divine light of a street lamp, her hair shining and her face flushed; she was shaking with a fragile, strained spirit and triumphant in body. Her face, even in concern, was beautiful to Miroku. She could only be beautiful to Miroku. It wasn't just physical beauty: her sweet lips and graceful cheekbones, or the exotic curves excruciatingly hidden just from reach. It was transcendent. It was that when he looked at her he saw soft curves and hard muscles enveloping a cold, steel bravery, gentle nature, raging temper and a fragile spirit underneath it all, as if… as if the top layers were cushioning for a young womantoo afraid to trust anyone; too afraid that all those other layers hiding her could be removed; too afraid that those other layers were never enough, never fast enough, never strong or brave enough.

And then Miroku could hold it back no longer. Feelings and emotions washed over him and he lost himself in them. Some part of him could still see. He saw Sango leaning over him, and he saw it when the ambulance pulled up. He saw himself fighting with the paramedics, but he wasn't really. He was fighting the hands tying him down, and the chanting, and the screaming. He fought the hands clawing at him, trying to chain him down. In the middle of it, he looked over at Sango and saw her expression, and he let go. He simply gave up. He would be brave, like Sango. He would face the vision and survive it.

The hands slapped him down. He lay strapped to the gurney in the ambulance as the paramedics from the IBSP loaded him into the vehicle. Urahara took the van, and in the ambulance, Miroku's hand was wrapped tightly with Sango's. He could no longer feel it, though he knew he had it.

All he felt was chains and the rock beneath him. All he could smell was the perfumed scent of candles and blood and the overwhelming scent of smoke. His whole body felt like it was smoldering, the way a live leaf curled and slowly disintegrated in a fire. All he could hear was screaming; terrified, painful screams. He swore he recognized them, if only he could concentrate a bite more… and then a hand caressed his cheek and he shuddered. It trailed down his neck to his clothes, and then his chest. The cold, brutal asexuality of the knife followed the warm caresses, stabbing into his flesh.

But Miroku did not scream. Instead, he turned his head to the side, coughing, and vomiting up blood.

* * *

Sango jumped when Miroku suddenly jerked to one side, as unconscious as he still was. He vomited up blood with such force that Sango felt her own stomach churn, but she didn't really think that it was from him vomiting. Sango could put up with a lot of gore and mess. She had dissected pigs and rats and a long list of other animals, but this was different. _This_ was her friend. _This_ was Miroku! 

"What's the matter with him?" she demanded in an escalating voice. His breathing was loud and forced. It sounded… raspy, like someone with asthma trying hard to breathe. Cold fear wormed around in the pit of her stomach, numbing her mind. She knew that sound. It _did_ sound like asthma: it sounded like someone who couldn't breathe was fighting for their life for air.

He was jerking on the table. The paramedic was over him, readjusting straps and trying to listen to his breathing. When he lifted his head, Sango saw small, almost invisible red dots on his cheek. Blood. Miroku's blood. She looked to the man's mouth to see blood staining the lips red, and it trickled down from the corner of his mouth, toward his ear. It changed direction with every jerk his diaphragm gave, but always down.

"His lungs are full of blood." The paramedic turned and grabbed a pair of scissors. Sango went pale. She had heart about this procedure in class. She watched as the paramedic cut a small hole in Miroku's shirt. Bracing himself, he pulled, ripping the shirt in two. Sango gasped when she saw his chest.

It was bloody.

It _was_ impossible!

A thin line of blood ran down Miroku's chest. It did not pool. It did not run. It did not even seem to be bleeding very much. And it was also perfectly straight.

The paramedic was just as flabbergasted. He swore a colorful streak, and Sango lurched up. She understood. "The vision! He's an empath! He's feeling someone else's pain! But… but it's so real that his body thinks it really is happening! His body is tearing him apart!"

Both of them felt like they were in over their heads. A glance down at Miroku's twisting wrists confirmed Sango's theory for the paramedic. The skin was raw and tender, as if something were pulling on him. He tapped on the window. "Call ahead. Get Darien the hell in there. He's going to need surgery! And get something ready to knock this guy out with. I don't know what the hell to give him." He looked up at Sango. "Hold down his shoulders for me, please. If he jerks, this could get messy. I have to start draining his lungs so he can breathe." He regarded her coolly. "Are you okay with a little bit of blood?"

Sango nodded, her lips so tight they appeared white in the lights of the ambulance.

The paramedic grimly understood. As Sango braced Miroku, talking to him comfortingly, the paramedic took a length of pipe and readied himself. Sango focused on those eyes; those scared, helpless eyes that seemed to beg for her to help. When she made the mistake of looking up, she was overcome with nausea. Luckily, she managed to keep from making the situation worse.

Sneaking her hand into Miroku's, she whispered comforting words to him. But deep down, she felt like it was too late. He couldn't even breathe on his own. He had to have a new hole punctured into his lungs just so he could get oxygen.

_God…_ Sango couldn't remember the last time she had prayed to a god—any god—and earnestly meant it. _God… if you're there, please don't take Miroku. Please. Not like this. He deserves better than this. He deserves to be an old man and to do something heroic. He deserves children bouncing on his knees and… and God… don't take him from us. Please don't take him from us!_

When they reached the IBSP, things did not look any better with Miroku. Sango ran on weak legs with them to the infirmary level, but stopped when she got to the atrium. Her uncle stood there, his visible eye concerned and his pose light. Sango felt like she was eight years old again, and ran at him. Kakashi latched on to her and swung her up into his arms as if she were eight.

"Uncle!" she sobbed into his shoulder. "Something's wrong with Miroku!"

He brushed her hair, feeling her damp cheek against the crook of his neck. Holding her tightly against him, Kakashi took in a breath that wavered traitorously. "I know, Sango. Urahara phoned me on the way over. Fuu and Ferio and Ranma and Akane are right behind them."

"What's wrong with him?" she asked, as if her uncle knew everything. It almost broke her heart when he answered. Her uncle had never let her down. Despite all logic, she deeply felt that if there was a problem, he could fix it.

"I wish I knew, Sango."

Urahara was right behind them. When he walked into the atrium, he saw Kakashi there, holding Sango in his arms. He felt his worried face soften and he went to them, but he stopped when he heard Sango crying. She was looking for comfort from Kakashi. There was no room for him in that worried knot. He would go upstairs and wait there patiently for information. Yes, he'd go there and he'd wait… perhaps he'd wait for Fuu and Ferio. Someone would need to calm them down. Suichiro was already being taken down to an interrogation room. The infirmary level was probably the best place for him, as it was really Kakashi's job to interrogate…

But Sango looked up from her uncle's arms and saw him. She didn't bother drying her tears. She slipped from her arms and she ran to him, giving Urahara the tightest hug she could muster. He held her back just as tightly.

"Are you… are you scared too, Urahara-sama?" she whispered. He didn't answer. He just nodded. Sango felt his chin move. She looked up at him stubbornly. Kakashi couldn't help her. "Do you know what's wrong with Miroku?"

He regretfully shook his head no, slowly sliding off his hat. Her brown eyes were hurt. Her next question came slowly. "But… if I don't know what's wrong with him, then how can I help him? I want to help him, Urahara-sama!" She reached out to him, holding tightly to the hem of his shirt. "_Please_, Urahara-sama!"

Urahara sighed, and slid his hand into hers. He glanced up at Kakashi, and the two old friends seemed to have a brief, silent conversation. Kakashi, finally, nodded. Urahara looked down at Sango and she thought he looked different without one of his friendly, harmless smiles hanging haphazardly from his face. "Okay, Sango. Kakashi and I were going to go and interrogate Suichiro. You can come too. But no heroics, understand?" She frowned at him, and Urahara questioned her again. "Sango, love, you know that I'd let you frighten or rough him up a bit if this were a J-walker or someone obviously not deranged. This man is dangerous. He claimed he liked you and then held a gun to you. He might have killed his own lover, for all we know! Kitten, the man is infatuated with you and the last thing I would ever, _ever_ do is to put you in a room with that man again. Understand me?"

She licked her lips slowly. "You want to protect me…"

"Of course I do!"

"So how come I can go out there," she said, gesturing to the exit, "but I can't go into a room and scare someone into telling me why they want _my partner_ as a sacrifice to some demon god? That's hardly fair! I can be used as bait, but nothing else?"

He gripped her arms tightly, and knelt until he was level with her. "Sango, listen to me. If I had known any of this would happen, I never would have agreed to let you try to use this man! Yes, you are your own person! Yes, you can go out and take risks! In fact, I encourage you to go out there and experience the world, but I want to keep you _safe_ as well. Kitten, don't you understand? _I love you_. Of course I want to keep you safe! Come with us, and listen to him, but I don't want him to see you. He's dangerous, and he wants you."

"He wants Miroku!" she yelled, stomping a foot.

"He didn't ask Miroku out on a date with him! He asked you! Do you really think you could scare him into telling him anything? Do you think you could flirt your way into telling him anything? Leave it to your uncle. Leave it to me. Please, Kitten? Try to understand. I know that you're a wonderful cop, but there are some times when even talent has to step aside because of outside appearances. He won't see a cop. He'll see the same thing Miroku and I do. He'll see a beautiful, attractive young lady. Okay, Kitten?"

Pursing her lips, Sango nodded. With a sigh she threw her arms around Urahara's neck and kissed him lightly on the lips as apology for being easily aggravated. He hugged her and kissed her cheek, accepting the silent apology.

"I love you too, Urahara-sama," she whispered in his ear as tears dripped back down over her cheeks.

Urahara's answer surprised her. "I know you do, Sango." He just wondered how much.

* * *

When Ferio and Fuu rushed upstairs to the infirmary level, they found it empty. Sesshomaru and Rin stood by the elevator, both of them looking worried. When they stepped off the elevator, Fuu found herself with her arms full of Rin, who clung to her tightly. She blushed with surprise as Ferio ran off to find Amy. 

"She knows something's wrong," Sesshomaru reported. Fuu nearly jumped at the sound of his voice. "She knows something is wrong and that it involves Miroku."

Fuu looked up at him hopefully. "She's told you that much? She's speaking again?" She brushed Rin's hair, feeling calm again. Her worry for her son was being held in place by the dizzying hope that Rin was talking again. Much to her disappointment, Sesshomaru shook his head no.

Instead, he pulled out folded peices of paper from the inside pocket of his white shirt. He passed them too Fuu. She opened them a bit awkwardly, as Rin clung to her. At first, the picture looked entirely blue to Fuu. Then she noticed the subtle changes in hue, ranging from white to purple to violet and indigo. Here and there were small red and yellow dots and wavy white lines. She noticed writing on the bottom and turned the picture. On the bottom was written loopy, slanted writing. Suddenly, the whole picture made sense. She was looking at a reflection of water, reflecting the sky. Violet flowers with red or yellow centers drifted lazily on the surface of the water. The title was called: "Miroku's mind".

The second picture was a large picture of another violet flower. The writing on this one was more rushed, for there was a lot of it. "Get well soone, Mr. Heero". Fuu felt her cheeks were damp when Rin reached up to brush them for her.

"She may not speak, but her pictures speak enough for her. She still remembers and knows Mirku and wishes for his safety, but it's me she won't leave. I suppose it's because I'm older then Miroku and I don't mind silence. She also knows what I am. The damn brat always had me drawn with puppy ears and a tail like I'm some kind of halfbreed."

Fuu felt a smile tug at her face. She was a bit shocked when he called her precious niece a "damn brat", but it had been said with warm affection. Rin smiled when she heard it. It seemed it had become a nickname for her. With a heartfelt sigh, she lifted her head. "Sesshomaru-sama, do you know what's wrong with Miroku?"

He nodded. "That is, I know that he was wheeled away for surgery. He was finished getting prepped a moment before you got here. Darien and Amy, as well as Darien's friends, they're all in there working on him. Apparently there was a lot of internal bleeding." He placed a hand on her slim shoulder, trying to be calming. "Darien is one of the best cardiac surgeons in all of Nippon, Fuu. Miroku's in capable hands. They just don't know why he was hemorrhaging."

Ferio, unable to find Miroku, returned to Sesshomaru. He was breathing heavily, and seemed scared as he regarded Sesshomaru. He was not afraid of the normally intimidating boss, but of what he would say regarding Miroku.

"Where is he? Sesshomaru, where is my son?"

Sesshomaru was about to start again when the elevator doors slid open and Ranma and Akane stepped off. Sesshomaru started over again. By the time he was done, Ranma looked mad enough to shed blood, Akane was sympathizing and Fuu was weeping silently, wrapped in Ferio's arms. Sesshomaru bowed his head politely to indicate he was aware of their sufferings. Rin hid shyly behind his legs, pulling on the hem off his shirt, but she was so cute that when Fuu looked at her, she couldn't help but smile slightly.

"Darien _is_ the best," he repeated. "Miroku is in capable hands, and I'm certain he'll be fine. If you wish, you can stay here and wait. I'll have one of the cooks from the cafeteria bring up some tea and food for…"

"Yes. Well stay here." Ferio led his wife to an empty chair in the waiting lounge and stubbornly sat down to wait. Ranma obstinately followed them.

Akane sighed. When Sesshomaru glanced down at her, she explained. "I guess I'm off to get tea for them and then find Sango and calm _her_ down. You can't talk to Ranma when he's in that mood." She paused, and her expression turned timid. "You said his lungs were filling with blood, didn't you? But he was in the middle of a vision. Are you… do you think he's strong enough to survive surgery? Even if he is physically, will it work emotionally and psychologically? How much mental damage will it do to him to empathically feel himself being vivisected and then to wake up and find himself coming out of surgery?"

He shook his head. Akane thought it was amazing that a man who could look so reserved and cold, with his golden eyes and the mane of snow-white hair, could also look so angelic when that mask slipped ever-so-slightly and revealed the person underneath. "I don't know. Darien made the decision, not me. He had to. If he sat back and had done nothing, Miroku would have died. At least this way he has a fighting chance."

* * *

"There's no chance of getting him to talk to us," Kakashi sighed. He stood in the ante-room behind the one-way mirror. He and Urahara had tried to question Suichiro, but the man had said nothing. Nothing except for: 'I will only talk to Sango.' Kakashi and Urahara had—after a long and frustrating hour—gone into the backroom where they could regroup. Unable to think of a way to get him to talk, Kakashi looked towards Sango. 

She was pale and dirty, her knees scraped and Miroku's blood doting her face and exposed chest. She met his gaze coolly, showing no fear. He was proud of Sango. Absentmindedly, she played with an abandoned pen, flipping it dexterously between her fingers.

"I want to interview him. If he wants to talk to me, let him talk."

Kakashi did not appear at all moved, but Urahara clearly didn't like the idea. She faced him, her brown eyes glowing in the dimly lit room. "He's unarmed. He's handcuffed to the chair. He can't hurt me, Urahara-sama. As for his psychic power, he's never been able to influence me with it. I've never liked him. Threatening my friend and holding me hostage didn't exactly put him in my good graces." She paused for a moment, studying him, and then added. "You can't _stop_ me from going in there."

Urahara sighed. Out of the desire to protect her, a large part of him at least wanted to _try_ to keep her from going. She was right, though. He wouldn't succeed, and the very attempt would make that cold anger turn on him. He wasn't ready to deal with that. Rubbing his forehead, he silently consented. It was Kakashi who was vocal about his thoughts.

"You're not trained in how to properly interrogate people, Sango."

Sango shook her head, strands of her askew hairstyle whispering in the still room. "I don't need to, Uncle. All I want to know is why he wanted Miroku. I don't need any training for that." Without any pause or sign of apprehension, she walked from the room.

Turning to Kakashi, Urahara couldn't stop from smiling proudly, though his blue eyes were touched with anxiety on Sango's behalf. He patted his long-time friend on the back. "You did a good job raising her, Kakashi. She's a fine, capable young lady."

Smiling slightly, Kakashi pulled off his mask and eye-patch, rubbing his face. "Hearing you say that makes me feel old. Besides, I'm not the only one whose raised her, Urahara. You were always there for her, helping her when I couldn't." He shifted and a look of confusion came over his face. He reached up and patted his halter strap, looking down in fear when he realized he had misplaced his fire arm. "Where'd I put my gun?"

The answer revealed itself when the two women heard a door slam and a gun go off.

* * *

Sango stood in the entrance of the investigation room, a gun in one steady hand. A hole was in the table, scorched slightly at the edges, and Suichiro actually looked scared. The bullet had lodged into the ceramic tile floor, shattering one of the tiles in the process, and lay scant centimeters from his foot. Sango's voice was detached. 

"I'm sure you know all IBSP members are taught to use fire arms and require regular training in them. I rarely miss a mark. Right now, I'm aiming for your fingers."

Suichiro winced. "Sango, darling…"

Behind the one way window Urahara and Kakashi jumped when she fired again. Another hole appeared in the table, just barely missing Suichiro's fingers.

"Damn. I missed." Sango frowned. "I hear you wanted to talk to me, Suichiro."

"This is illegal! This is… this is police brutality!" Suichiro was pale and furious. In comparison, Sango's face was smooth and calm. Only her eyes displayed her anger. They reminded Suichiro of the eyes of raptors he saw on television and were the same shade of molten bronze. He couldn't bring himself to look at them. He knew from those brown-gold-flecked eyes that he was in over his head.

"Why did you want to talk to _me_, Suichiro? Did you honestly think that you could flirt your way out?" She angled the gun down a little more. "Always thinking with your penis. Maybe I should take it instead of a finger."

"No!" He had enough movement with his shackled hands to try and cover himself, crossing his legs and hunching over. He looked much less intimidating when he was cowering, trying to protect himself. "God Almighty, Tora! Were you _always_ this psychotic?"

Sango smiled a little vaguely. "No. Only after someone tries to kidnap my friend and drag him somewhere so a bunch of demon worshippers can rip out his heart. Why Miroku, Suichiro? Why did you want him?" He didn't answer. Sango stomped to the table and braced her foot against it before giving one shove and pushing it away so she could get a clean shot. She wouldn't miss from that proximity. "Why _Miroku_?"

He appeared honestly frightened when he looked up at her. He actually looked panicked. "I can't…" His eyes dripped down to the nozzle of the gun. "Please, Sango! You have to understand me!" She growled warningly, a low rumble like that of a large cat's. He recanted. "Look… look, you have the book right? The one that monk sent to you?"

Arching an eyebrow, she paused and then warily replied yes. He continued without noticing her suspicion. "Well, well you read it, right? The one the Demon Lord hates! That's Miroku! The Lord wants his blood and his heart!"

"But why? What did Miroku ever do to you?" she demanded. He paused and she pulled the safety off with her thumb, slowly restating her question. This time his silence was contemplative and she allowed him a moment to answer.

"What type of person do you hate more than others? What type of person can you never forgive? Someone who cheats on you? Someone who reveals your secrets? Why? Oh, you know why, Sango. I know you do. This has happened before, Sango. Don't you think we ever tried to call back Shabra…" He got a hold of himself and he stopped. He bit down on his bottom lip to keep from speaking, making blood appear when his mouth stretched into a rueful smile. He stared up at Sango. "I've said too much. Go ahead, if you're not satisfied. Shoot."

Her eyes widened in surprise but he didn't notice. "My lord will win, sooner or later. If I speak more, my lord will know, and I will be punished. Just as my lord can be good and kind, he can also be punitive. You have no idea, Sango. No idea." His tone changed, becoming gentler, and his dark eyes looked haunted. "Shabranigdo… they also call him the Lord of Secrets, Fire, and Darkness, you know. He can control you in so many ways. According to legend, men in love with the Demon Lord, with what he can offer them, have stripped off their own flesh for his amusement to prove their worth. Families have killed each other in frenzies for him. Think what the lord can doto you if you anger him! Stories say how he has turned unfaithful lovers into vampires and then buried them alive until they slowly starved to death. The one that always disturbed me was when he turned people into succubae and then locked them away, until the hunger took them. Then they threw a loved one in with them and the hunger was great that they… they… and when they woke up… the person they loved was… _there_ and was.. was just… _gone_."

He shuddered and then relaxed. His hands gripped the chair arms and he shut his eyes. "Go ahead. Do it."

He opened his eyes again when there was no sound. Sango stood with a smirk on her face in front of him. The gun was still in her hand. The chamber was open and when she pointed it towards him, he could see right through it. She was out of bullets. He had not called her bluff and he had betrayed his lord because of it. He hung his head in shame, and Sango simply left.

* * *

Behind the one-way mirror, Kakashi looked pale. "My God… he'd be willing to put himself through that just to avoid being punished… If Shabranigdo ever got loose…" 

Urahara agreed, of course, but he was more disturbed for something else. "Our Sango is the one who got him to confess, though I don't understand his cryptic answer. I was sure she was going to actually…"

His words cut off when the door opened and Sango bounced in, triumphant, though a little sheepish. She gave Kakashi back his gun. "Sorry that I took it from you, Uncle. I knew I shouldn't have. I didn't have my gun with me, you see." She looked down at her outfit, holding out the hem of her dress. "I mean, where would it have gone? There's no place to hide a gun in this thing… but, the point is Suichiro confessed."

"Did he?" Kakashi asked, sounding uncertain.

"Weren't you listening? He told us exactly what we needed to know."

Urahara let out a faint sigh. "We heard a very cryptic answer, Sango. What does a cheater and someone who can't keep secrets have to do with each other?"

She smiled at him. "Urahara-sama, you don't get it because you're not a girl. When a boy cheats on a girl, it's nigh impossible to forgive him. You let him into your life and he hurt you. It's the same thing for a best friend who goes and tells everyone your deepest, darkest secrets. What's the one type of person you can never forgive? A traitor. A betrayer. Someone who had your trust and confidence and broke it. I don't quite understand it," she finished, running a hand through her hair. "Somehow, somewhere, Miroku betrayed Shabranigdo, and now the demon lord won't be appeased until he gets Miroku's blood."

* * *

As she watched Miroku lay in bed, Fuu became aware of how incredibly young he looked. He seemed so small in that bed, and she couldn't help but be reminded of when she had first met Miroku. Back then, she'd had less control of her powers and even from the floor above him she had been able to sense his nightmares: garbled images of milk glasses, faces, and flames. Sometimes, she would sneak downstairs. Finding his bedroom door unlocked, as if he were too afraid to lock it, she'd take him into her arms and hold him until the nightmares passed. 

She had found him years again, after he had developed his psychic powers. Fuu and Ferio adopted him, tried to give him a loving home. He still had nightmares, but they weren't as frequent. Often, by the time Fuu sensed them, Miroku was already fighting himself out of them and she would walk in to find him suddenly jerk awake, pale and sweating.

He was having those dreams now. She was certain of it. Fuu sat by his bed, holding his hand, and slowly, she drifted asleep. She woke up several hours later when Miroku finally jerked free from his dreams and shot up in the hospital bed, his mouth and eyes wide open. He looked petrified, and then in pain. He hunched over, grabbing his chest and his arm. The chest was easy to understand. The stitches were still fresh. Fuu looked down at his arm. He'd sat up so fast he had torn out the IV.

"It's okay, Miroku. You're safe here. Ferio, please go and get Amy." Ferio nodded and left, leaving Fuu to sit down next to Miroku on the bed. She gently pushed him back down. "It's okay, Miroku," she repeated. "Lay back down. The nightmares are gone. You're safe and sound. You just came out of surgery you know… though that was actually yesterday evening." She paused delicately. "Do you want to talk about them?"

Miroku fervently shook his head no. He licked his lips; they were dry and chapped. "I feel like shit. I feel like I just got dumped by the sexiest girl in town and then got my ass kicked by her jealous ex. What the hell happened to me, Fuu?"

"Oh, Miroku," Fuu sighed in relief, a delighted smile pulling at her lips. If Miroku was awake and joking, then everything was right in the world! The half-smile slowly vanished. "You were hemorrhaging. Darien had to operate on you right away. I swear Miroku, at this point you have more stitches than a baseball!"

Her attempt at humor was not unappreciated, but at the moment Miroku was too dizzy and tired to note what he was saying. "Hemorrhaging? That explains a lot… no wonder I was coughing up blood and felt so ill…"

Fuu's pretty green eyes narrowed. Miroku had never seen her angry before. Fuu didn't usually get angry. She was all fluff and sunshine, as Miroku had thought when he was younger, though he knew a sharp mind lurked behind those green eyes. Now he was glad he could only perceive it through hazy vision. If he had seen the real thing in all it's glory, he didn't think he could handle it.

"Miroku de Forest! Are you sincerely trying to tell me that you were aware something was wrong with your body and you did nothing about it? Oh, if you weren't so sick right now I swear…"

Luckily, Miroku was saved from having to be chastised or answer her questions when the door to his room burst open. Amy rushed in, careful not to spill a precious drop in the steaming mug in her hands. Ferio was right behind her, quietly shutting the door. The young doctor marched up to the bed and handed the mug to Miroku before she began fixing his arm, talking animatedly.

"Miroku, I am so sorry! I should have picked up on this earlier! I just… I had never even thought to look. Oh, you should have seen what Darien told me after we were through with you! That man can me imposing enough when he's in a good mood, I pray I never have to see him mad again. Oh, Miroku!" She finished fixing his arm and the IV and sat on the bed opposite him. Her face was flushed and her eyes seemed dark, as if she had been crying. Miroku was touched to see her remorse was real. "I'm so sorry! This is all my fault. Please forgive me!"

He shook his head wearily. "Amy… I think that's more than I ever heard you say before. I promise I'll forgive you if you do one thing for me…"

"What's that?" Amy queried, expecting a request for Wac Donald's or a fluffier pillow—something the other men she worked with would have asked for if they had been laying in Miroku's position.

Instead, he looked up at her with those clear grey eyes and smiled a little, a moment of color coming back to his skin. He looked at her with such innocence that Amy nearly burst out laughing when he asked her in a serious voice to bear his children. Amy smiled back at him, blushing. Miroku had always been known as a shameless flirt, and she was relieved to have him back, if only for a moment. "I'll blame that question on the drugs, but only for today. Drink up, Miroku. I let you get sick on me once and I refuse to have it done again."

He looked down at the mug in his hands. He sniffed it lightly. "What is it? It smells good. It smells like peppermint."

"It's peppermint tea. I added a few things to it. I made it myself. You need rest and relaxation, Miroku. Your body lost a lot of blood. This will help you go to sleep. It's an all-natural sedative…"

Miroku's fingers slippedon themug. Only Ferio's quick reflexes saved it from being spilled all over the bed and Miroku. The young man stared at Amy, terrified. His voice cracked. "Sedative? A… Amy! I… I can't. I can't be here! I need to help the others! I need…" He tried to stand up, but Amy and Fuu both gently pushed him back down by his shoulders. He was too tired to put up any resistance at all. He seized Amy's arm and stared up at her imploringly. "Amy! If I sleep… the visions!"

"Shh. I know."

Fuu and Ferio were staring at them, confused. Miroku had never told them that he was more perceptible to visions when he was asleep or angry. He figured that Fuu and Ferio had their own problems to deal with—especially Fuu. She was already so guilt-ridden over Hilde's death and worried over Rin's silence that the last thing Miroku wanted was to aggravate the situation. Amy, on the other hand, was well aware of Miroku's fears.

She smiled down at him and brushed his black hair, trying to soothe him. "I know, Miroku, but I promise they won't come. I promise there won't be any more visions. They have Suichiro in custody. He confessed that he was after you, remember? They were after _you_, Miroku. The dreams were about you. Now that you're safe and sound where they can't get you, there won't be any more…"

"No!" He looked around frantically. "No! They aren't after me!"

Fuu bit her lip and then slowly said, "Yes, Miroku, they were. We have confess…"

"No!" he interrupted. "I don't give a rat's ass what Suichiro said! The visions weren't about me! They're about Sango! Sango!"

Fuu looked at him, puzzled. "How can you be so sure?"

If Miroku had been unable to explain why he knew it was Sango, Fuu wouldn't have believed him. She would have written it off as being the medication. But, as she watched, his grey eyes began to turn back to their normal blue-toned hue as he returned to his senses. His face became flushed, his lips so light that Fuu thought he was going to faint away. His eyes were so large and scared that Fuu saw again the little boy whose nightmares had kept him awake for hours on end. That alone made Fuu want to believe him.

His voice was a hoarse whisper, trembling with every other syllable. As deeply as he tried to fix it, he couldn't. The words seemed to come from somewhere deeper than his throat and nothing could fix the hidden fear laying twixt those shaking words. "I can _hear_ her, Fuu. I can hear her in my visions. I can't see anything. I can't smell anything but smoke, but I can hear Sango. She's screaming, Fuu. It's _real_ screaming, not those kind of fake-screams. She's scared. I can feel her fear in those visions. She's crying out, as if in pain, and… and… and _God_! Don't you see? _She's_ screaming. _She's _scared. _She's_ in pain. The visions are about _Sango_!"

He turned to them each in turn, begging. "Please! Please! I'll drink the potion. I won't get out of bed! I'll be content to lay here and just read—I swear to you that I won't even get my laptop down her and read. I'll be the best patient that Amy ever had, just _please_, have someone look after Sango."

Fuu nodded gently, reaching out to hold his hand. "Okay, Miorku we…"

"No, Fuu." He pulled his hand away as if it was burned. "Not you. You're just promising me that because you want to see me drink my medicine. Not you, Fuu. Ferio. Ferio, please." Miroku could think of nothing else to say and his throat was hurting from speaking as it was. Every breath felt like he was swallowing hot embers that sat in the pit of his stomach, scalding. But he needed to get them to understand, so he just stared up at Ferio hopefully.

Fuu had never been like Miroku's mother to him. He was a teenager when they adopted him. He was old enough to know that they weren't his parents and almost fully raised. All that was needed was the refinements. Fuu had given those to him, but she had always been more like a big sister. When Miroku had first found himself attracted to girls, Fuu was close enough to him and distant enough at the same time that Miroku found himself a moody fifteen year old thinking about how he'd like a girl like Fuu—a fun sweet girl who never raised her voice and was always thoughtful. Eventually, he started teasing Fuu, pointing out that they were only related by a piece of paper.

'If we had a kid, what a telepath he'd be!' he used to exclaim. Fuu would always laugh and smile and sometimes rap his head lightly, pointing out that she was married and then order him to drink his milk.

She had always been like a big sister, doting on him and gossiping with him. Whenever she needed something from him, it was always so subtly and sweetly asked for neither Miroku or Ferio dared to say no.

It was Ferio who was the parent in Miroku's life. Maybe it had less to do with their demeanors and more to do with Miroku. It was hard, he sometimes supposed, for a woman to be a mother to a teenager, but it was easy for a man. All that seemed to require was advice about girls, playing the occasional game of catch, or working on Miroku's first car together until late hours of the night. Ferio provided that and more, not only being the one to establish the rules in the house, but the one to enforce them.

Miroku didn't mind being punished when he first broke the rules in the de Forest household. Fuu and Ferio had given him more than he had ever thought possible: he was going to a good school, they helped him study, they gave him good food and the odd indulgence, they established rules he could live by and he even had his own bedroom, which he could decorate any way he wished. They provided him the nurturing and stability he had always secretly coveted in other households.

But Miroku had had a mother. He still loved her, even though he could recall very little about her, especially in his waking ours. He remembered that she, like Fuu, had made a house feel safe and warm and comforting. He could remember sweet kisses on scraped knees or elbows, but perhaps those were just fantasies. Constructed or not, he loved his birth mother and Fuu could never replace the angelic image he had worshipped for so long. But his father was another matter, and Miroku found the paternal-image he needed in Ferio. Now, though a grown adult himself, Miroku stared up at Ferio, praying that the trust he had placed in Ferio for so many years would not be broken.

Ferio, finally, consented. "I will talk to Sesshomaru-sama. Perhaps he can suggest something. Until then, I will have Ranma try not to leave Sango alone." Miroku accepted that and took the mug, sipping it. Though hot, it eased his throat, and he was certain his best friend could protect Sango.

Fuu smiled at him, her smile still a little injured. "She was here while you were asleep, Miroku. I like that Sango. She stayed here until she fell asleep. By then Urahara-sama came to check on you and he brought her up to her room. The poor girl was fast asleep and didn't even wake up when he picked her up. I think she had something she desperately wanted to talk to you about. I think she'll be back soon. Perhaps by then you'll be awake."

She had hit on exactly the right thing to say to make Miroku fall asleep with a smile on his face. Eased into a nightmare-less sleep by Amy's herbal remedy, he fell asleep within a few minutes of drinking the stew. Amy changed the IV bag and fixed his blankets, taking his pulse and making sure he was okay as he slept. Fuu and Ferio stayed for a further two hours before leaving for bed themselves. And through it all Miroku slept soundly, fantasizing that Sango had come to tell him that his latest vision made her realize she loved him desperately.

He knew it was a long shot—but the thought made him happy.


	29. Souls Aflame

Chapter 29: Souls Aflame

The first thing that Sango did when she woke up was to go downstairs and check on Miroku, carrying her lap top. He was still asleep. Amy assured her that he'd be asleep for about the next two days. When she made a potion to make a hyperactive man sleep and recuperate, they stayed asleep.

The two large men standing at Miroku's door glanced at her when she walked into the bedroom. All she did was glance back at them. One glimpse at those gold-flecked eyes and they recognized her, placing her. The door shut behind Sango but she could still hear the two human men talking.

"That's her… Kakashi's niece. The half-breed I was telling you about…"

Sango gritted her teeth and then looked up at Miroku's bed. She was struck by the same thought Fuu had been the day before. He looked so very vulnerable in that bed. His feet didn't come close to the end of the bed and there was room for two. The IV dripped almost musically. His breathing was shallow and raspy, but steady. The heart monitor beeped quite annoyingly. She fancied that Miroku would have many things to say about the annoying sound if only he were awake to hear it.

A small desk was off to the side. She supposed it was really there for Amy to use when she brought in medicine or food, but it was serviceable to Sango. She set up station there, plugging in the lap top and connecting online. It was time to do some homework on Miroku.

Sango was only slightly surprised to find that his profile was deleted. She shook her head. He'd done the same thing she had. Well, even Miroku pressing the delete button couldn't do much for Kakashi's authorization, could it? Logging on under her uncle's name she dove through computer files until she found her holy grail.

_Restore all_.

She clicked the button and the page refilled itself, as if by magic. Before she could get the chance to read it, the door opened. Amy smiled to see Sango in the room.

"He could use some company, but I'm afraid he needs a bath right now. Would you mind helping me change the sheets?" Her smiled grew into one bursting with cheerfulness rather than medical approval. "Don't worry, Sango. I won't make you bathe Miroku."

Amy talked as they changed the sheets. Sango at one point held Miroku up off the bed for her so she could lay down a new sheet. She was worried about how light he was to her. Despite superior strength, she felt that Miroku still should have been a few pounds heavier. Then she remembered the one time he'd ran to the washroom after the vision. He hadn't been able to keep much down besides coffee, had he? And none of them had even noticed. Guilt ran over her to the point where she sat numbly in the waiting room, waiting for Amy to come and tell her it was okay for her to sit inside the room and do work again.

People were in and out of Miroku's room all day. Ranma dropped by often, Akane shyly in tow, and his adoptive parents were the most frequent of guests. Kagura even had the thoughtfulness to show up with a bouquet of flowers to brighten the room up. Through it all, Sango worked steadily away. At one point she had twelve windows open, Googling names and searching the IBSP files, trying to find some connection with Miroku to Shabranigdo.

She learned more about Miroku in that first day than she had ever thought possible to learn before. Rubbing her eyes, she jumped and slammed the lap top shut when a hand landed on her shoulders. She spun in the seat to find Urahara looking down at her.

"You scared me, Urahara," she yawned. The 'sama' was lost somewhere in that yawn. She rubbed her eyes. They hurt from staring at the screen. "Hm…. What are you doing here? Should you be busy tinkering away at some new invention?"

Urahara squatted down next to her. "Sango… it's two in the morning. I was finishing something up and I thought I'd swing by to see how Miroku was doing. I don't honestly think they'll be any developments until later, when he finally wakes up. Still, I'm glad to see that he isn't any worse. You, on the contrary, look like you just rolled out of the grave. Shouldn't you be in bed, Kitten?"

"I guess. I was actually just doing some research… I guess I got carried away."

"Oh? What were you doing research on, Sango?" Before she could stop him he had reach over and lifted the screen of her lap top. He stared at it in puzzlement, pursing his lips. Finally, he poked her side and asked, "Doing research for pedigree, are you?"

Sango smiled, a bite relieved, and blushed. She appreciated that Urahara could tease her about Miroku. "N… no. I was trying to find some way how Miroku could be connected to Shabranigdo. I can't find _anything_ though!"

Understanding she was frustrated he kissed her forehead, saved her work, and turned off the lap top. "Sango, you're so tired that you couldn't even hear me coming up behind you. That's why I wear the sandals, you know. When I was younger I had one too many people scream at me after I came up behind them. You look exhausted. Come on. I'll take you up to bed and tuck you in, just like I did when you were little."

She allowed him to give her a hand out of the chair. Sango felt rather silly as she looked up at him hopefully. "Can I have a piggy back like I used to, too?"

He laughed, ruffling her hair. "Just this once. I'm tired too, you know." He watched as Sango tidied the desk quickly and then ran over to Miroku as if she were Rin, kissing his forehead and promising to be back first thing in the morning. Urahara lifted her on his back and began heading up to the bed room floor. Her long hair fell over his shoulder and her cheek rested by his. Urahara thought of the world of Sango. Even though she was an adult, he honestly didn't mind giving her a piggy back.

"Did you find out anything interesting about Miroku?"

"Yes," she answered, a faint growl audible. "But I don't really want to talk about it. I want to talk about it with Miroku. Do you know that he went through a lot of the same things as I did, and yet when I opened up to him about it, he said nothing? Not even a 'Sango, I understand what you're going through'! I want to know why and I want to hear it straight from him! But… but I couldn't find anything about Shabranigdo."

Quiet and thoughtful as he carried her upstairs, Urahara didn't speak until he sat at Sango's desk, toying absentmindedly with an open textbook. Sango was in the washroom brushing her teeth and changing into her pajamas. When she came back out, she noticed his odd expression and gave him a questioning one.

"I was just thinking about all those stories I used to tell you when you were little, about the great heroes of our old myths… Sango, I have something to confess to you, and I fear that now that you're an adult, you won't quite understand it. All I'm going to go and ask is that you not go and tell others what I'm going to go and tell you."

She smiled at him lovingly and took his face into her feminine hands, lifting his face to hers and giving him a sweet kiss. "You have my secrecy, Urahara."

"Sango… you know how Miroku always makes those jokes regarding my age? How old do you suppose I really am?"

She shrugged. She had never really given it any consideration. The few times she had she'd thought it was too rude to walk up to Urahara and demand his age. "I don't know… you were friends with Uncle Kakashi when he was my age. I guess that means that you could be as young as forty…"

He nodded. "But in truth I am much, much older than that. I'm older than Sesshomaru, Sango, and younger than Rukia. I was… I was your age when Shabranigdo still walked the earth. They aren't myths, Sango. They're real histories." He gazed at her, but his gaze seemed far away. "People died fighting Shabranigdo. Good, honest, live people. Some of them were my friends. It was a horrible war. Innocent blood was spilled on both sides, and families were torn apart. You couldn't tell who was an enemy until they stabbed you in the back."

Slowly, Sango sat down on the bed, listening. Urahara spoke with such compassion in his voice Sango knew he was telling the truth. Those events had been real… and yet… it seemed impossible for her to comprehend. She had grown up on those stories as childhood bed-time stories. Some part of her still clung to them as such. She didn't want the world Urahara described for her to be real because the human history she learned could not fit it into her world. There didn't seem to be a place for demons as long as subways in downtown Tokyo, nor monsters that could upturn mountains in the rural areas of Japan.

She didn't want them to be real… but it was the only way she could logically explain why the Demon Lord wanted Miroku.

* * *

After Urahara had given Sango a large push in the right direction, she still didn't know where to go. She found herself becoming quieter than normal and more irritable. Ranma's frequent shadowing had, after two days, led to Sango blowing up both at him and Akane. 

"Your best friend is lying in a room unconscious and all you can do is follow me around! What's the matter with you? Do you think that watching me _suffer_ is amusing or something?" She swore to the point that Akane gasped. "Akane, why can't you just keep him on a tight leash? Can't you just control your man?"

"Hey!" Ranma snapped. "I don't need controlling! And leave Akane out of this!"

Choice words were hollered on both sides of the conversation. Ranma and Sango kept yelling at each other until people began coming to see what was wrong. Their cheeks were red and by this point they were threatening each other, challenging the other to a fight in the training room. Akane was in the middle of it all, trying to be a peacemaker.

Finally, after one too many jibes, Ranma blurted out, "You're right! I must not like Miroku, because I actually told him that if he liked you so much, he should go after you. If I knew what a spoiled brat you were, I'd have saved my breath! Ferio asked me to do this for Miroku! He thinks that you're in danger and I'm supposed to look after you."

"I don't nee any looking after," Sango hissed, furious and embarrassed.

"Fine!"

She straightened her shoulders. "Fine! Now if you need me, you know where I'll be."

Sango stomped off down the hallway and the onlookers felt somewhat dejected. They had expected a fight, and despite all the hot hair, they had gotten nowhere. Sango, on the other hand, felt like she had been through the ringer. She could all but feel the adrenaline surging through her body as she stormed through the office building. Miroku thought she was in danger? Her? How silly! And yet… and yet it was odd to think that he was still watching over her despite the fact that he was still sound asleep in bed. It was like… like magic, or like he was a gho…

_No!_ Sango shook her head, dismissing such thoughts. Miroku was not dead. Miroku was not going to die. He'd be awake and flirting in no time at all.

…she was sure of it.

Returning to what had been dubbed her make-shift office, Sango found herself staring at Miroku for a long time before she actually got back to work. Finally, she tore away from his sleeping visage and tried her best to ignore her own thoughts. Miroku _was_ going to wake up! He wasn't going to waste away.

She worked away diligently. In the windowless room, the sound of Miroku's breathing, the beeping heart monitor, and the sound of Sango's fingers on the keyboard of her laptop made the time disappear. Before she knew it, Sango was wearily rubbing her eyes, fatigued. The clock in the bottom of the screen told her it was midnight. Sango wasn't even sure what she was doing on the computer still. She had had some reports to do, but she'd finished those up long ago. She just kept telling herself 'five more minutes and then I'll log off'. Sure enough, five minutes turned to ten, and ten to thirty. At a half passed midnight the door to Miroku's room creaked open an Urahara's blonde head popped in.

"So you _are_ still here. I had a feeling that you would be." He looked up to Miroku's bed. "Has there been any change in him?"

"Amy assured me that Miroku wouldn't wake up today, but maybe tomorrow. It's tomorrow already now, and he hasn't woken up yet. I need to know what happened to him, Urahara-sama. I have all the information here, but… but I want to hear it from his mouth." Urahara quietly snuck in the room and placed his hands on Sango's shoulders, rubbing them. She relaxed a bit, but when she stopped speaking about Miroku and talked _to _Urahara her tone still had an edge to it. "This is exactly what I was scared of happening to Miroku. I want him awake again, Urahara-sama."

"You're still mad at me, aren't you?" he inquired gently.

Letting out a sigh, she patted one of his hands reassuringly. "I am… but not as much as before. You weren't allowed to tell me. I can understand that. But I still feel like you were lying to me. And now I have new things to think about. Before you were just Urahara-sama…"

"I am still just Urahara-sama," he pointed out quietly. Sango continued, her voice softer.

"But now that I have learned more of what makes you Urahara-sama, I need to come to terms with them."

He paused, and it seemed a little hurt to Sango's ears. Silence between them had rarely been uncomfortable, and Sango didn't like that feeling. She knew that he was staring at Miroku. His voice seemed far too young and naïve when he asked: "You love him, don't you, Sango?"

She wanted to deny it, but she couldn't. "I love things _about_ him," she replied, strategically avoiding what Urahara was really implying. "I love his smile and how he's so attuned to me he knows what I really mean. I love his power, and… and things… but…" She let out a sigh and finally, her whole body relaxed. "But that's not love, Urahara-sama. That's not me being in love with Miroku. There are things about him I absolutely loathe, like how he's so proud of himself or how he flirts with anything even remotely female… And yet, when I weigh those things against the good I see in him, I know he's a good person. He's a friend. He's someone I know I can turn to for advice and have it be good, solid advice… but that's not love either. All I know is that Miroku is in danger and I don't want him to be. I want him to be safe, because I want all my friends to be safe, and it makes me feel scared and helpless that this is something out of my hands."

Urahara looked down at her. His blue eyes were clear and gentle, like the summer sky Sango remembered lying under as a child. "I feel the same way about you. I wish that I could help you, but I can't, Sango. I did my best. I told you why they wanted Miroku, and I hurt you in trying to help you. I apologize for that…" He paused again, and his hands slid from her shoulders. "Come on. I'll give you another piggy-back upstairs."

Sango shook her head no. "It's alright. I want to stay down here a little longer. I have some more work to finish up. And I… I don't really want to leave Miroku alone. I know that Miroku's not really alone, not with those two guards Sesshomaru stationed outside, but he always hated going to sleep. At least this way someone is with him. I'm sure he knows I'm here, Urahara-sama. Amy says he's restless when I'm not here."

She smiled up at him with such pride and sweetness Urahara could not dream of being offended at her display of sincerity and friendship. "I'll be on my way, then. _Do_ go to bed, Sango. You look like you could use some rest."

Working steadily away on the lap top, Sango didn't realize how late it was until her cheek, resting in the palm of her hand, suddenly struck the edge of the desk. Sango jerked awake, cursing. She'd have a fine bruise there tomorrow morning. Sango glanced down at the clock on the computer. It was three a.m. No wonder she was so tired! Sango chastised herself. She was going to make herself sick if she didn't start taking care of herself! And, really, what good was a sick agent? Still… didn't feel like dragging herself all the way down the hall to the elevator… there was a bed _here_, too…

Miroku bed _was_ big enough for two.

"I'll sleep on the covers," Sango decided, closing her computer. "There's nothing indecent about that. We won't be in bed together at all. There's nothing indecent about keeping a sick friend company in the first place! And Miroku's my friend… or I'd like to consider him such…" Her thoughts stilled themselves as she turned in her chair to face Miroku. _I really do hate to leave him_…

She slowly climbed up on the hospital bed. It was a tight squeeze, but Sango was surprisingly comfortable, she found, if she slept on her side. She'd pushed her dress shoes off and sent them clattering the floor. She wound her feet in the wrinkles of the blanket to keep them warm. Miroku's arm lay stiffly by his side. Sango lifted it and wrapped it around her shoulder, using his upper chest as a pillow. Miroku smelled good. Sango breathed in deeply, nestling closer to him for warmth. Finding him quite comfortable, Sango was asleep in moments. Not before, however, certain that Miroku could hear her, she softly whispered to him: 'good night'.

* * *

Miroku knew before he woke up that it was going to be wonderful. He didn't know why or how, he just _knew_. It was like waking up because the sun was in your eyes: you knew if you opened your eyes you'd find the sky a pale blue, tinged with red and gold in the horizon, and little drops of dew clinging stubbornly to the soft, velvety green grass. It was like the first few notes of a favorite movie. Hearing or seeing these things made you feel happy, and you knew everything would be beautiful. 

For Miroku, he was happy for one because his nightmares had stopped. That alone was worth celebrating. He'd had nightmares since he had fallen asleep, dreams about his family and Sango and fire. Through it all he'd felt Fuu and Sango when they were in the room with him. He could tell who they were from the splashes of color in his mind.

Fuu was like a golden breeze, an iridescent sparkle that drifted slowly back and forth, rocking him into more pleasant memories.

Sango was like dark water, the crests glittering the same brown-gold of her eyes. The waves slowly pounded into him and he frolicked in them, letting the waves crash against his body as he lay under a night sky. He took the time to memorize each subtle change in the world around him until he could tell their emotions by the subtle changes they made.

He'd fallen into a natural sleep when he was surrounded by those waves. When he woke up they had gone, but her scent still lingered. He shifted, finding one arm numb. He tried lifting his arm but something heavy was laying on it. For a second, he panicked, thinking that in his innocent slumber he had been captured. Then he heard a soft, feminine sigh. The strange weight moved closer. He could feel warm, moist air on his chest through the thin hospital gown he wore. Miroku slowly opened his eyes.

The room was dark. The little light in the room was from the window in the door, slanting across the edge of the bed. Miroku didn't notice the light. He opened his eyes and he saw Sango and nothing else. His breath caught and he stared at her, hypnotized.

He noticed that, like a cat's, her hair was not really black. When the light struck it from the right angle it turned brown. From that just-so angle parts of it sparkled in a myriad of little rainbows. The shadow of her long eyelashes highlighted the curve of her cheeks, turned blossom-pink in her slumber. There was a faint trace of eye shadow on her eyes from the day before, but Miroku didn't care. Her lips were parted, soft and inviting. The way she breathed through them reminded Miroku of a cat. His hand lay by his side and he lifted it to brush her hair. It even felt like he was petting a cat.

She nestled closer to him, sighing again. Sango looked so innocent. He felt like he was ruining her by touching. His lecherous hand was wrapped in his luxurious hair and she lay there, warm and safe. She looked so young when she was asleep. Without the venomous growl laying beneath her voice or the blaze of ferocity in her eyes, she didn't seem like she was in her twenties anymore. The contours of her face were still soft and subtle. Seventeen. She looked more like she was seventeen.

This was a girl that he wanted to know more about. There was no steely outside; this was the girl hiding underneath the outside of Sango. This was the girl he wanted to know. This was the girl he wanted to protect. The Sango with the growl and the blazers didn't need protection. This sweet little thing. She needed protection from people who might get close enough to see the soft, naïve center under the bundles of bite and bark and might hurt her. This person that Sango was hiding, it needed protection. He'd help Sango protect it, and…

He shut his eyes and bit his lips to withhold an agonizing groan. He was an _idiot_! There he had been, flirting with her, kissing her, and occasionally groping her and he'd never really realized it:

Sango wasn't grown up yet.

She tried hard to be. She was independent and capable and mature. She dressed the part. She spoke the part. But deep down, she really was more like a teenager. She was still growing up, still trying to understand the world and define herself. She was a half demon, he reminded himself. She grew up and aged at a slower rate than he did. With her blazers and her defiant jaws and strong shoulders, it was easy to miss. No wonder she could get so flustered or temperamental with him. …No wonder he wanted to protect her and help her when he saw her like this!

Bending his neck, he pressed a chaste kiss against her forehead. Her hair tickled his nose. "I think I like waking up with you beside me rather than waking up and seeing you cry."

"I think I like this better, too," she yawned. Her eyes were still closed.

"Are… are you actually awake?'

She nodded. "I'm trying to sleep, though. I want to sleep, but you're playing with my hair. Nobody plays with my hair." He apologized and tried to pull his hand away but she caught it and guided it back. "Please don't. I like it. It's nice and relaxing."

He started again and she moved closer to him on the bed. "Mm. I always wished people would do this. That's why I grew my hair so long. I was trying to get people to play with it, not because I really like it long. I can't even do my own hair; not very well."

"If you ever want me to, I'll do your hair for you. There's something very comforting about playing with your hair, Sango." Her name was cut off when, suddenly realizing he was actually awake and it wasn't some pleasant dream, she pulled him close, kissing him soundly.

"I'm so glad you're awake!" she exclaimed.

Miroku laughed. "I think I like how you showed it." Sango growled and slapped his side lightly, not liking his teasing, but she was smiling herself. She had missed his laugh. Miroku kept laughing, not the least bit of lechery twinkling in his eyes as he stared at her. He was honestly happy. His laughter stopped when there was a sharp pain in his chest. He winced and rubbed the skin lightly. "I guess I didn't sleep long enough to heal fully. How long was I out for?"

She glanced at her wristwatch. "Three days, more or less. I never thought you'd wake up again, sometimes. Akane and Ranma are out right now. I should go and tell Fuu and Fero you're up. They've been really worried. Do you want anything?"

"Water would be nice. Food, too. I'm famished! You don't have… you don't have to go right now, do you?" he asked hopefully. "Good. I want to stay like this a little longer."

Sango nodded understandably and rested back down again. Shivers ran up and down her spine. His body was firm and warm. A blush slowly rose to her cheeks as she clung to the robes he wore. She didn't know what to say to him. She was so relieved, and he laughed and it made her feel like he didn't really understand how honest she was being. She wished… she wished...

Miroku bent his neck again and kissed her hair. Sango felt like was floating and fuzzy; like he'd read her mind. When he spoke, the feeling only increased. "I'm sorry I didn't wake up sooner, Sango. Thank you for visiting me so often. I knew you were there. My powers are growing, Sango. I wish you could see what you make my world look like..."

"Tell me about it? I want to know how you see me, Miroku."

He smiled. "First… imagine an ocean…"

* * *

"I can't believe you were going to screw us all over like this!" one person hissed to the other. 

Suichiro looked up from his cage and glared at his fellow partner-in-crime. He snarled and turned his back. "The boss was getting tired of you. Here you are, able to control people and take advantage of people and yet you withhold information and sit high and mighty and do nothing! Well, I have nothing, and I was still able to get closer to capturing Miroku than you ever could!"

"Yes, and look at you now! Captured and held behind a cage like some kind of dog!" Suichiro snarled from his seat in his cell. He hated the gloating he saw when he looked over his shoulder.

"Leave me the hell alone!"

"I'd love to. Believe me, I'd love to leave you here to _rot _in your little cell for all of the work that _I _put in to this effort, for all the butts _I_ had to kiss to get here, and to have _you_ fuck everything over because _you_ wanted to have Sango on a silver platter and decided to jump the gun and try to get to Miroku! Oh yes, I'd _love_ to leave you down here for that… but I'm not allowed to. Even if I hadn't gotten orders to get your sorry ass out of this jail, do you think I'd be dumb enough to go back to the boss with Miroku and not his son? The way I see it, the only way I can possibly redeem this horrible mess you made is to drag both you back home to your father." The individual muttered something about being a goddamn baby sitter.

They handed something to Suichiro through the cell door. He reached out and took a small white bundle. Inside he found a bottle of ether, the terry cloth it had been wrapped in, and a small glock with an extra clip of bullets.

"Sit here and think about what you did, Suichiro. I'll be back to get you this evening. It'll be your job to get him out of here. I can't be seen leaving with you two or else it'll break my cover. This way, if you screw up again at least I'll still be here to try and salvage the mess you made. I'll come down and unlock the cell door for you, at least. Try not to fire the gun, would you? Not unless you want every agent within ear shot coming after you. Oh, and Suichiro? DON'T screw this up. If you can't even handle dragging out an unconscious man and keeping him sedated with ether, then the next time you get captured, nothing could ever make me break you out of jail again."

Suichiro heard his partner leave, and tucked the terry cloth under his pillow before laying down on it. He glowered up at the ceiling. He knew why they wanted Miroku, and he knew one thing that his partner didn't.

Miroku had to willingly give himself up. He needed to maneouvre Miroku into giving up his heart...

* * *

Sesshomaru was impressed. Ranma and Akane looked incredibly professional as they sat in his office. Neither of them seemed to be paying attention to each other, and yet he could feel their silent conversations as he explained their mission.

"So," Ranma summed up. "What you're saying is that because Miroku is out of commission, you want Akane and I to go to this abandoned warehouse and investigate it because a passing neighbor saw demons in there a few nights ago."

He nodded gravely. Rin stood by him patiently, wishing that the whole conversation could be finished. She wanted to have Sesshomaru to herself again.

"That's correct, Ranma. It's just a simple reconnaissance mission. First, make sure the person wasn't incorrect. Search for signs of demons. If you find it, simply call the IBSP. We'll send more help over immediately to help process the site."

"I think we can do that, sir," Akane said politely. She rose from her seat and Ranma followed suit. "Is there anything else to keep in mind?"

"Yes, Akane. Don't tell Sango about this mission. I don't want her to get offended that she isn't being included. Right now, I think the best place for Sango is to be with Miroku. Amy has told me he reacts well when she's around, and as both of them are potential victims, if we keep them together it will make watching them easier."

Ranma faltered. "Ah, sir? About… about Sango?" He blanched when those gold eyes turned on him. "Sir, Ferio asked me to watch over her, as a favor for Miroku, sir. I don't… I don't think I'd feel quite right accepting…"

Sesshomaru held up a hand, indicating that he should stop. He understood. Ranma was envious of the grace Sesshomaru had when he moved. It had been so regal Ranma felt more like he was talking to a king than to his boss. "Ranma, I am overriding Ferio's decision. I'm sure between the guards set up to watch Miroku, Amy, Miroku's parents, myself, Urahara, and Kakashi we can keep track of Sango's whereabouts and safety. After all, she's inside the IBSP. She's safe here."

Ranma smiled with relief. The guilt lifted from his mind. "Thank you sir."

As they rode the elevator down, Akane looked up at her partner. "For the record, when you fight, you're just as graceful a Sesshomaru is."

And Ranma blushed.

* * *

Fuu and Ferio were ecstatic to hear that Miroku was up and awake. They stayed with him all day. So did Rin. She came with Sesshoumaru and threw herself on Miroku, falling asleep curled up against his chest. Her lips with sticky from peanut butter and jelly sandwhiches and crumbs stuck to Miroku's hospital gown, but she was as good as gold. Sango waited patiently to do her business until all the others had said their piece. She wanted to ask her questions in private with Miroku. Finally, Sesshoumaru came and picked up Rin, having used Miroku as a baby-sitter. Sango disappeared to get Miroku some supper, and Fuu and Ferio promised to be gone by the time she returned so Miroku could rest.

On her way back, Sango found Kagura standing in front of Miroku's room, flirting with the guards Sesshoumaru had stationed outside Miroku's room. Sango was a little bit disgusted that Kagura would so blatantly use her powers, but she was a little relieved, too. She had the guard enthralled, her powers supplemented by enchanting perfume and a very low-cut top; but she was leaving Miroku alone. Maybe she was finally over him. The guards let Sango by without a second-glance.

Miroku was laying in his bed, his eyes peacefully closed. When Sango shut the door he lazily opened one eye and smiled. Both eyes opened and he wearily began sitting up. When he saw the tray she held, Miroku stared at her with puppy dog eyes. The, he recanted. "It's not more soup, is it?" he demanded, sounding disgusted. "After three bowls of it today I don't ever want to see soup again!"

Sango laughed. "As you didn't throw up those three bowls of soup, Cook decided you were well enough to have something a bit more substantial." She set the tray on his bed and lifted the lid, revealing supper. "Ta-da! A small salad, cold water, warmed bread with a touch of butter, some soft fruit and a bowl of cottage cheese."

He stared at it rapaciously. "Oh. I love you."

"Thanks, I guess," Sango replied uncomfortably.

"Not you. The food. Remind me to tell Cook I love him when I see him. I swear that if he weren't male, I'd ask him to bear my kids! Food, food, glorious food!" He picked up the small bowl of cottage cheese and began shoveling it into his mouth.

Sango laughed, booting up her lap top. "Careful. Don't make yourself sick." She studied him for a moment, watching him laugh and smile. "I don't think I've ever seen you quite like this."

"Sango, since you met me I could barely keep food down. Now that I don't have to worry about those damn visions I can _eat_ again. As long as you and I are both here, I won't get a vision and I can catch up on a week's worth of eating!"

Sango shook her head. "For a sick man, you seem far too chipper."

"Amy gave me drugs," he grinned. "They apparently make me a little giddy and talkative." He didn't mention bouncy. At this point Miroku had the attention span of a three year old when it came to sitting down and doing nothing.

"Talkative is good, because I have questions to ask you, if you wouldn't mind." She carried her laptop to the bed and set it down beside Miroku, tilting the screen so he could see it. She sat down on the bed too, and when she looked up and saw the reaction on his face, she regretted showing him the newspaper article she'd found online. The healthy, robust color that had returned to his face and the twinkle in his eye had vanished. His face blanched and he scared at the screen with an expression Sango could only call horror and fear. Even his hair seemed to lose its life, laying flat and dull against his neck and forehead without luster or bounce. His eyes stood out in his pale face, like two dull, calm pools of grey water. The piece of bread he held to his mouth dropped from his fingers.

The title of the article was: _Fire Destroys Shinto Temple in Northern Nippon_. It was dated almost twenty years ago and was from a local paper.

His reaction, besides being one of fear, was one of guilt. Sango knew then that her investigation into Miroku's past had yielded no mistake.

"You know what this article is about. That's _your_ house that burnt down." He mutely nodded. Sango slipped out of her slippers to curl her legs up under her on the bed. She shut the laptop, breaking the disturbing connection his eyes had to the screen. "Tell me about it. Please."

He might not have told her, but she had said _please_, and she had said it in such a way that it pulled on his heartstrings. Still, he couldn't bear to look at Sango. He stared at the bowl of fruit in his lap. "It's a long story…"

"I have time." Her voice was encouraging and inviting. He hated it as much as he loved it. She was using her femininity to get him to tell his story and it was working.

The strange thing was, however, that Miroku wanted to tell her. He wanted her to understand him, and to understand why he felt this otherworldly, growing connection with her. He was afraid of the memories that constantly tried to resurface in his mind, but for Sango, he would brave them. He knew she'd understand.

"Before I started this case, I didn't remember much about my past. I didn't want to remember, andit allhappened so long ago that I don't think I could remember. But now I can. Ever since these last visions have been coming, I find myself remembering my family in more detail, remembering what it was like living with them, remembering my brother, and how he died. I always remembered my mother. I loved her. She was so warm and cuddly, always baking me cookies or putting Band-Aids on my skinned knees when I fell. As for my father, I couldn't remember him, but others told me what he did. Everyday since I learned what my father had done, I looked atmyself in the mirror, as if… as ifinsanity was something visible, like your first grey hair or a wrinkle…"

Miroku laughed bitterly.

"I was six years old when my father brought my mother and my little brother home from the hospital," he began.

Sango, enchanted by his rich voice, felt pictures beginning to form in his mind as she listened. She could practically imagine what six-year-old Miroku would look like. His eyes would have been bluer with young age, the color they were when they smiled. His hair would be thick and dark, and messy from playing. He'd have a cowlick from sleeping, and she knew he would either hate it or love. It all depended on the reaction he got from the six-year old girls.

As for his brother, oh, he'd have to have Miroku's dark hair. Even as a newborn, it would be visible, but thin and sparse. He'd have blue eyes too. They'd be more like Urahara's blue eyes, as he was just a new born, and be set in a pink, chubby face.

She could feel the brotherly sense of pride in his voice as he spoke of his brother, and the sense of pain as well. "I can remember it because that night a man came to visit my father. I can still remember what he said…

* * *

_Miroku was curled up on the carpet. The fibers scratched his cheek, but he was slowly falling asleep. He was only a few inches from a closed door, behind which slept his tired mother and his new baby brother. Miroku wished that he had been allowed in the room with him, but his mother had wanted privacy. Miroku didn't understand why, but he understood privacy, so he kept a diligent guard outside._

_He'd been one of those kids who, upon finding out that he was going to be a big brother, had taken to the concept swimmingly. _You are a big brother, _his father had always told him. _You are supposed to watch over your little brother and keep him safe and help him when he needs it. One day, little Miroku, when he is big and strong like you, he will return the favor. Friends make come and go, but family is forever. His blood, and your blood. Our blood; your mothers and mine. All we have is each other.

_Miroku had taken those words to heart. He watched over his brother silently, knowing that everything was safe and sound inside that room where his brother and his mother slept quietly. His father was downstairs in the kitchen. Laying there on the scratchy carpet floor in the shrine, he was slowly falling asleep. He could smell baby powder from the crack under his mother's door. The sound of chimes from the nursery sounded like angelic laughter and from an open window at the end of the hall, he could smell the sakura blossoms. The sweet spring air folded around like a blanket, just the right temperature, and in the square of light that enveloped him he found warmth that made him went to stretch out luxuriously._

_Downstairs in the kitchen, just as he was about to drift off into that world of angelic chimes, he heard something slam downstairs and he heard his father's voice._

"…_o… ad?... are insane!"_

_Miroku perked up, rubbing his eyes, though he felt suddenly very awake and curious. His father only ever yelled at him when he had done something bad. His mother and his new baby brother were sleeping. There was no way that they had done something wrong. Unless his Dad had found out about the cookie Miroku had had before supper… no. Because even then his father would have yelled _at_ Miroku, and he wasn't. He was yelling at someone else._

_He quietly crept through the hallways and down the small flight of stairs that separated the living room and kitchen from the bedrooms. He crawled along the ground, trying to stay low. His father's voice was louder and there was another man in the room._

"Do you remember his face or his name?" Sango interrupted.

Miroku shook his head. "No. I don't think I ever looked up to see his face. I was a little kid. I still hid under the blankets if I thought there was a monster in my room. I had developed the age-old belief kids get: egocentrism. If I couldn't see myself, they couldn't see me. If I couldn't see them, they couldn't see me. I kept my eyes on the ground. For a second, they both turned away and I ran, sliding under the table and laying there on my stomach so I could hear properly…"

"_We can't do it without your help!" the strange man said. His voice was soft and gentle, rather feminine, but too deep to belong to a woman. It sounded like a young man… maybe someone his father's age. _

_Under the table, Miroku could see shapes through the cloth hiding him, and a pair of feet came closer. When his father spoke it seemed to rumble and Miroku clapped his hands over his ears._

"_I'm not going to help you! What you want is insane and dangerous! The last thing I want to do is to…" _

_His father suddenly stopped. Miroku heard something click and his father stopped talking. Miroku was scared and he didn't know why. The click hadn't sounded like something bad had happened. It sounded like some of the noises Miroku's toys made when he played with them. What scared Miroku was that his father, in the middle of yelling, had suddenly stopped. His father seemed scared and that scared Miroku. Children always got scared when their parents were, evenif at the time they didn'tunderstood why._

"_I… I want a night to say goodbye to my family."_

"_Of course," the other man purred. "Thank you for your cooperation, Mushin. I will give youone night out of thanks for your cooperation. Your silence, of course, will be needed in this matter. I will pick you up tomorrow night, twenty four hours from now. I suspect that will be enough time to say goodbye." There was a pause and then the sound of moving feet. "Good night, monk."_

_Miroku lay huddled under the table for what seemed like forever. Then his father said: "Come out, Miroku." Miroku didn't want to do it. His father knelt down and lifted the fabric hiding Miroku from a world of moving feet and ankles. He smiled at his eldest son and his eyes were wistful. "I said, come one out, silly. They're gone."_

_He crawled out and ran to his father's waiting arms. His father brushed his head and held him tight, trying to warm away the fear that had made Miroku suddenly feel so much older than he really was. "They're gone, Miroku. Don't worry. I won't let them hurt you or your brother." He paused. "You're a brave little boy, Miroku. Look at you, trying to come and defend your father!"_

_Miroku's_ _little voice was full of venom that caught his father off guard. "He was a bad man, Daddy! I don't like him. I don't want him to come back again! He made you scared, Daddy. I don't want you to be scared. If you're scared, then _we _get scared, and I don't want to be scared either!"_

"_I think you were very brave, little warrior." Miroku smiled at this new nickname, feeling proud. He lifted his face from his father's shoulder and looked up at him. There were tears on his father's face._

"_Daddy… you're crying. Daddies aren't supposed to cry."_

_His father's eyes wrinkled at the corners as he smiled fondly down at Miroku. "Even fathers are allowed to cry now and then, Miroku."_

"By that time the baby had awoken. I don't know why. Maybe it was the yelling or maybe he had wet his diaper. My father told he to run off and play in my room, and I did. He went and talked with Mom. My room was right beside theirs and I could hear my mother beginning to cry. Dad was talking to her. I couldn't hear what he was saying, just my mother's sobs."

"_We have to do this, love."_

"_But… I don't want to… and how are we supposed to do it anyway?" She sat on the bed, clutching her youngest child to her and wishing her eldest was there too._

_Mushin_ _looked around and spotted the pills the doctors had given his wife to help her sleep. "We can grind those up. We'll dissolve them in the milk we give them at bed time. They're so little, it won't take much to put them to sleep. We'll save enough for me. You can say your goodbyes and I'll get everything ready. They'll just fall asleep, love. It will be painless. They'll fall asleep, and when they wake up, they'll be in a better place."_

_She managed to barely keep down another sob. "What about me? What am I going to do?"_

"_Anything you want, love! Go and see your parents…"_

"_No! I want to be a part of this too, Mushin! You can't just send me away!"_

_His expression softened and he sat on the bed next to his wife, resting her head on his shoulder and trying to comfort her. He let out his breath, sighing. "I don't want you to die, too, love."_

"_You're taking my boys from me._" _Her voice was oddly calm and rational. "You're taking my reasons for living from me."_

"_But they don't need you! It's me they want! It's my blood they want! _Mine_. My blood beats in the hearts of our boys. They don't want you at all…"_

_His voice trailed off when she looked up at him, her eyes lost and scared. "Mushin_… _you're taking my boys from me," she repeated gently, trying to get him to understand. "You're taking my life from me. You're taking the people I live for away from me. I'll already be dead on the inside. Please, put me out of my misery. Let my body die too. Don't turn me into one of those shells of a woman, the kind who just sit and stare and are like little puppets for the people around them. I couldn't stand being so lifeless…"_

_He couldn't stand imagining that either, seeing the dance and sparkle vanish from her eyes and seeing her tenacity turn into placidity. Mushin found himself nodding, hiding his tears in her long, dark hair. "Okay, honey. I agree."_

_She paused, her question lingering on her lips for a long time before she decided to speak them. The quiver of fear returned to her voice. "Does it have to be this way? Does…"_

_Mushin_ _was nodding already. "The power is in the blood. It's always in the blood. It has to be something that destroys their bodies, love. If we could drown them or poison them, they'd still be able to use their blood and flesh to resurrect Shabranigdo. It has to be this way, because this way, they'll be nothing left for them to use…"_

"We spent the whole day together as a family," Miroku reported. "It was wonderful. I don't recall ever having a day that was so much fun with my family. When night came, we had supper, and then my father tucked us all into bed. My mother came by with a warm glass of milk to help me sleep. It tasted sour, but all my mother had to do was to smile at me, and I drank it to makeher happy. That was the kind of mother she was. She was so warm and happy that we couldn't dream of doing something to hurt her feelings. We worshipped her. She read me a bed time story, and I fell asleep."

_Miroku was getting hot. He rolled over in his bed, kicking off the sheets. Why was it so hot? It was so hot he was having trouble breathing. He coughed into his pillow. Breathing through his pillow helped a little… oh, he was so tired… but he couldn't stop coughing… and his eyes… they _hurt_. The hurt worse than when his mother washed his hair and accidentally got soap in them. And his chest… it hurt too. It ached…_

_Why was it so hot?_

_It was too much for little Miroku. He woke up and he opened his eyes. It was a mistake. It felt like daggers hot been shoved into his eyes. He let out a little scream and shut them, crashing out of bed in a coughing fit. The scream had gotten caught in his throat before he could let it out. It hurt when he breathed in!_

_Laying on the ground it was a little cooler and his eyes didn't hurt as much. Miroku opened them again. A thick black cloud hung over his bed. Miroku knew what it was. He'd seen it before in little quantities: trailing up from a lit candle in the shrine in the house, or puffing up from his father's burnt cooking. It was smoke. But this was something different than that smoke, and it scared him._

_It seemed to be trying to reach him, small clouds now and again dropping low as if to scoop him up and blind him again. Miroku ducked lower, keeping himself flat against the floor. He was scared. He didn't want the smoke to get him. Where his mom? Where was his dad? They were supposed to protect him!_

_As he lay there, so scared that he felt his pants dampen, he heard the fire. It was so loud he wondered how he had ever not noticed it. It crackled and roared around him. He could see the smoke because of the light under the door and the light pouring through the window. It roared and it crackled. Miroku felt like there was a great dragon of light and head growling at his bedroom door, ferocious and hungry and ready to devour him. He clutched his head, crying. He didn't want to be devoured! He didn't want to die!_

_Where was his parents?_

_The fire was so loud Miroku, laying on his chest on the floor, screamed, clutching his head. Where were his parents? Had they been consumed? Were they so busy with the baby that they had forgotten about him? Where were they? If only he could reach out…_

_And then, miraculously, he found he could. His parents were sleeping in the next room, sound asleep. The baby, like him, had awoken. Miroku could hear him screaming in his mind; he felt his brother's discomfort and fear. Miroku wished he could take back his miracle. He didn't want to feel his brother's fear. He didn't want to know that his brother was laying in a crib, screaming and crying and in pain from the heat devouring his tender skin._

_Still screaming, his father's voice came to him. Miroku was a little warrior. He would slay the dragon at his door and he would save his family! That's what big brothers did! He got to his knees, bravely, crawling to the door. When he got to the door and stood up, burying his face in his pajamas to breath a bit easier. His toes hurt from the heat emerging from under the door. He grabbed the latch to pull it open… and screamed, jumping away and falling on his back._

_He clutched at his wrist, tears dripping down his soot-stained face. His hand was bright red. It hurt. Miroku knew what the word was. Burned. He had burned his hand, the way his father burned toast or his mother might burn herself on a hot pot. No wonder his mother always looked like she was going to cry when she burned herself! It _hurt

_But it was the screaming and the sobbing that saved Miroku._

_In the courtyard of the shrine, fire trucks had gathered. The firemen began going to work right away, erecting hoses and trying to extinguish the fire, but it was too fierce. Just by luck, one of the firemen looked up and saw Miroku's shadow reflected in the glass of his bedroom window. He pointed it out and they began scrambling to access that window and save Miroku._

_Miroku lay on the ground, clutching his wrist. His cheeks, once stained from the soot in the air, had been cleaned by his tears. He didn't know how long he lay there, but suddenly the window shattered. Large yellow boots entered his field of vision and large yellow hands reached down like the hands of a god from the smoke above him. They reached for him and he screamed. Then the face—that horrible, horrible face—broke through the smoke. The face was a glowing golden rectangle coated with dust, reflecting Miroku's face back at him underneath the dust. There was a gaping mouth that hissed and sputtered and tubes everywhere. Oh, that horrible, awful raspy breathing!_

_He was more terrified of that than of the fire. He scrambled to his feet, narrowly avoiding those large, monstrous hands. The cloud of smoke blinded him and choked him. It stung his eyes and his cheeks. It was suffocating and relentless, trying to find a way to enter his body. Miroku panicked more. He had to find that door!_

_The pain in his hand was nothing next to the panic and the fear of that yellow monster. He headed for the door. This was his room. He knew where it was. He flung it open, his hand screaming at him in pain and thereafter refusing to move. Miroku screamed, not from his hand, but from the fire in front of him. Like a dragon lying in wait as soon as he opened the door the fire leapt up, lunging for him and laughing in triumph. He could feel his hair singing from the blast of heat, stray pieces of hit curling up into tight ringlets until they disappeared in a puff of smoke as if they never were. Miroku backed away, and he tripped over his own two feet. _

_Strong arms caught him before he hit the ground and hoisted away from the roaring, snapping golden flames. He tried to scream but he couldn't. A wet blanket was wrapped around him and he gave up fighting. His hot body felt cool wrapped in those sheets. He pulled them tighter around himself and closed his eyes, trying to settle his stomach as the fireman carried him down the ladder to the safe ground below._

_On the ground below, when the fireman tried to take him to the ambulance, he resisted. He cried, he bit, he kicked, and he screamed. He struggled to the back to the house. Oh, what a fool he had been to ever leave! His parents were in there! His brother was in there!_

"_I can hear them!" he sobbed, screaming through his hoarse voice. His tongue felt thick and foreign in his own mouth. "I can hear them! They're in there! There're in there!"_

_The man who had carried him out of the house knelt down by him. Miroku struck his shoulders and his chest and his legs but he did nothing. The man offered him the tiniest of smiles. "We'll get them out," he said. "That's our job, boy. You can't help now. Be a good boy and get looked at. Okay?"_

"_Jesus…" one of the firemen said to the other. "His parents are still in there."_

"_I know," said the other firefighter, the man in red. Miroku could see the paramedic coming towards him, but he was too busy looking up at the men, listening in on their conversation. The man in red lifted his hat and wiped his brow. "Damnit. If this place weren't so out of the way, someone would have called it in sooner. That place is unstable… boys! Come on! There are…"_

_Before he could issue another order, the firemen jumped. Their hoses, spraying water on the house, jumped with them. The sound was so loud that Miroku covered his ears. All he could feel was screaming and pain and fear. He watched with wide blue eyes as the pointed roof of his house caved in on itself, sending up sparks and smoke. _

_The man in red swore. "Don't take those hoses off for a second! There's a…"_

_His words were cut off as Miroku screamed. His legs wouldn't work, and yet he could feel himself running for the house. Someone grabbed him and he felt a needle jab into his arm. The fire slowly dwindled from his sight, and, blissfully, the sound of the voices in his head faded into the consuming blackness._

_

* * *

_

"_He's not talking," the nurse reported. _

"_He'll talk when he's ready. We just have to keep talking to him. Keep his cognitive development going. Let him know that we're for him, whenever he wants to come to us. Let him know that he's not alone," the doctor said. "He'll talk when he's ready."_

_The nurse shook her head and glanced back down at the boy laying in his bed, his right hand wrapped in bandages and his blue eyes fixed on the ceiling tile above him. "The poor thing… Doctor! Think of all that smoke he inhaled… The state of his lungs is deplorable. What if… what if he _can't _talk anymore?"_

_The doctor took a deep breath. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see."_

_

* * *

_

"_Did you hear what the cops found?"_

_Miroku was hiding under the bed in his room in the hospital. He liked it under there. It was away from the hot sun, if there was smoke it would be far above him, and the tile under him was nice and cold. He liked to press his cheek against it and watch his breath make little designs on the grey tile. Outside, two nurses were talking as they changed sheets. They didn't realize Miroku was there, hiding under the bed._

"_What?"_

"_That fire in the old shrine… it was deliberate!"_

* * *

"I could have told them that!" Miroku snorted. "They had gone through the whole house, everything left after the fire had rampaged through it, but all they had to have done was ask me. I knew.

"My mother had ground up her sleeping pills the doctor had given her. Then she dissolved the powder in our milk. She gave it to us to help us sleep. When we were in bed, she took hers, and Father took a container of gasoline and sprinkled it throughout the entire house. He was planning on having the smoke kill us, suffocate us while we slept. Then he took the milk, dropped a match, and lay in bed with my mother, waiting to die. They found their skeletons in bed. They never found my brother's. They assumed nothing was left because of his age. His bones weren't ossified, like my parents'."

Sango had been staring at her shoes as if they were the most entrancing things imaginable. Miroku was looking the other way, avoiding her gaze. He was afraid of the pity he knew he was going to see on her face. He didn't want to be pitied.

He felt her fingers sneak into her right hand, holding it gently and letting her fingertips stroke his palm and his fingers. Miroku felt his heart pound in his chest. He watched her hands in his… god, she hand such beautiful hands…

"Does it hurt at all still? There are no scars, no…"

"I know," he nodded, staring at her hand. "It doesn't hurt. I have less feeling in that hand then I do in the other hand, and sometimes it stiffens up, but it's not bad. Little kids have amazing healing factors. It's like, because of puberty, you can almost reverse the clock…"

Sango paused and her voice was strained when she spoke. "When I told you how my parents died, why didn't you tell me that yours died in a fire too? Even if you didn't remember what had happened, you still knew how they died, didn't you? Don't you think… didn't you know…. Miroku, I would have loved to know that you understood what I had gone through, that you were like me… caught in flames, knowing your family was there…"

"You would have loved it too much," he interrupted gently. He lifted his eyes and, to his relief, he found empathy. It almost made him smile with relief, and after holding it back a moment, he did smile at her. "Oh, Sango, you would have understood too much. Florence Nightingale. That's why I didn't tell you."

"What?"

As he spoke he lifted his other hand and reached out, brushing her hair. "I didn't tell you because of the Florence Nightingale affect. I didn't want you to sympathize with me. I've told girls what had happened before and they all took it as a sign that I needed mothering, or that I was starved for love and attention, so they took me to bed. I didn't want you to do the same, and you were so… so…" Her eyes narrowed, but he chose his words carefully. "You were so _affectionate_ at that time I had no doubt in my mind that you would have invited me to your bed because you felt a connection with me. You're so… so _perfect_, Sango, that I could not have said no."

He noticed Sango was smiling. "Have I said something funny?"

She nodded. "Someone had told me that was why you hadn't told me, and I didn't believe them…"

He paused before he slowly voiced his own question. "Sango, why were you doing research on me?" She didn't answer and he tickled her side lightly. "Are you doing research for pedigree?"

With a smile, she shook her head. Urahara had asked the same thing. Those two were more alike than they'd care to acknowledge. Her voice was quiet and soft, and when she looked at Miroku, her eyes flashed gold. "I know whyyour fatherdid that, Miroku."

* * *

To be continued...


	30. The Trap

AN: This chapter changes perspective a lot. The italics flip fro Urahara telling the story himself, to his own memories, to the story, to a third-person view of his memories (falshback!) and to the night previous when he told Sango the truth about their history. I apologize for all the jumping around. Just try to go with it. :) Myself, I like it.

A few notes on the names: Torafu is tiger-stripes, apt for a tiger-shifter. Baraen is rose-garden. I think it's pretty. Lastly, Kariodu is hunter. I thought it was apt since, at least in western society, cats were normally kept because they hunted rats and other pests.

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Thirty: The Trap

"I know why he did it."

Miroku thought that maybe he hadn't heard her right. He looked away from her. He didn't want Sango to see that she had enflamed hope within him; a hope that maybe he could finally understand why his father had to feel that he had to burn his family and to ease over the fear that it wasn't just insanity. Miroku didn't want to be insane; he hated living with the fear that one day, he was going to be like his father. He didn't want to hurt people, especially not the ones he loved. He didn't want to go insane. He didn't want to kill…

"Urahara told me," Sango slowly added. "So…"

"What the hell would he know about it?" Miroku demanded. His head whirled around to see hers and Sango thought she saw lightning flashing in his eyes. They were like storms of grey clouds. "How the hell would he know what my father did!"

"Please, Miroku, let me finish first." He stared down at the empty bowls of food on his lap and she continued. "Urahara told me about it. You can't tell anyone else, because we're not supposed to know, Miroku. We're not supposed to know because it pertains a lot to people alive today and it's not our business to… it's not _my_ business to know, but it concerns your family, so it is _your_ business.

"When I was little, Urahara would look after me when Kakashi was away. He used to tell me bedtime stories to get me to sleep. They weren't things like Cinderella or Peter Pan, but stories about us, about our past and our myths, the shifters. There was one, that had always been one of my favorites, because… I suppose it was a kind of a love story. Long ago…"

* * *

_Long ago, when the world was still young, great demons walked the earth. Humans, still evolving and changing, walked the world blind to their presence. They did not realize the smoking mountains, or sometimes even the islands they sailed to, were demons. Slowly, humans began to wizen and learn of their world, and they came to know the demons. Some they feared and hunted, just as the demons would hunt them. Others, they welcomed, claiming good luck and prosperity came to those who treated them with respect. Others, they loved, and new species began to emerge._

_Shabranigdo was some combination of all three. It was said that he had two aspects of himself. He first was a form so horrible and frightening that brave men had their hearts collapse upon seeing it. The other form was one so pleasing that men would kill themselves for a chance to reach out and touch the hand of the demon lord of nightmares. There was no escaping Shabranigdo._

_One human fell in love with Shabranigdo. Ensnared by the beauty of his form, he loved Shabranigdo. The demon lord, rather than growing tired of him, found amusement in him, for the human male was both intelligent and brave._

_However, the human man was also engaged to be married._

_Time and time again the demon lord asked the human to break off his engagement. The mortal woman was weak and undeserving of his love. He offered the human male everything he possibly could to break off the engagement. Shabranigdo offered the man wealth beyond measure, power over all the islands of Japan, every luxury. He even offered the man a chance to have his wife as a concubine, so long as he did not wed her. For marriage, Shabranigdo told the human, was a bond which no power could break. If the man continued to seek pleasure with Shabranigdo after his marriage it would be infidelity and the human would be punished by the gods for hurting his wife, not for the actual sexual unions which had hurt her._

_The human male continued to deny Shabranigdo, stating that his marriage was for the good of his town. It would bring peace to his town and prosperity to his family. Shabranigdo promised him that, if he would let the marriage go. He said that he didn't want to hurt her feelings. Shabranigdo promised to send her all the lovers she may wish to please her if he broke the marriage. Finally, in a final act, the demon lord even _begged _the man that if he should wed, to bring his wife with him, and he would entertain her as well, if only so that he may see his lover smile again._

_Realizing how much this had meant to the demon lord, the man smiled at him and promised that the next morning, he would ride to the neighboring village and break off the engagement with the girl, face to face._

_They made love._

_The next morning, he did indeed leave. Great and terrible was Shabranigdo's wrath that day, for he had to earn his respect among his followers again. They did not understand how he could have brought himself to beg to a mere, mortal human. Shabranigdo was in love. It was as simple as that. The man's warmth and grace and wit had made Shabranigdo love him._

_Don't assume, Sango,_ Urahara would always say. _That this meant the Demon Lord was suddenly a little angel, loving all humans. No, he simply favored this little human. He wished to protect him and cherish him for always, to have him for his very own, for always._

_The man rode to his future wife's. As marriages happened back then, he had never seen his future wife. He was not supposed to see her until their wedding night. He slid off of his horse and he knocked on the door. An old, wrinkled woman opened the door and he revolted. This was the woman he was supposed to marry? He asked to speak to his future wife, and the lady laughed, indicating that the girl was in the garden._

_He went around to the garden, and do you know then what he saw? He saw the most beautiful woman in the world. His heart and once gave a leap and it seemed that every fiber of his being cried out to the girl, yearned for her, and loved her upon seeing her. She stood in the garden, humming to herself as she worked. She was tilling the soil, her feet and her hands caked with dirt. Her skin was tanned from the long hours outside, but her eyes were large and full of wonder as she sang to herself. They were honey-brown, warm and innocent, with long lashes that made her appear several years younger than she was. Her nose was pert and burnt from the sun, and the man could never have imagined a woman with more beautiful lips._

_At once he forgot his promise to Shabranigdo. All he could think of was his future wife, his Baraen. How could he give up a woman who worked until her hands were callused, a woman who tended her family with religious devotion, a woman who smiled as she worked? He had feared his wife was going to be a lily maid, and now he found he had a rose instead: a beautiful, sweet rose whom he had to handle carefully. For that was what would make his life interesting._

_He walked up to her at once and he introduced himself. She merely stared at him, smiling, amused by him, and pointed out that he was standing on her plants. At once she loved him back, for he had a good heart and he tried so very hard to please her. He helped her in the garden, and stayed for dinner, and he was everything with her he had been to the demon lord. She could not help but love the stories he told of far-off places or of the gods, and she loved the tenderness he displayed towards even the smallest of creatures._

_They were married, and Shabranigdo angered. He did not strike out against them, not yet. For he was cunning and patient. As ageless as he was, he could wait. _

_Wait he did, until at last he had the opportunity for revenge. The human male, as much as he loved his wife, also loved the demon lord. He was not only pleasing to look at, but as intelligent as the human male. The man wished to see his old lover once more, and to speak of things past and make sure that he was doing well._

_His empathy was his downside. Shabranigdo seduced him into his dwelling and at once sent men to his house to capture the wife who had taken his lover from him. Shabranigdo changed that man. He turned him into his monster, and then chained him up and left him there for five whole days._

_Do you know what a succubus is, Sango? It is a type of demon—a dangerous one—which feeds upon the energy created during sexual unions. Some say that there are varying ranges of power in these creatures. Some of them rip out the soul of the individual. Others need simply a frequent sexual union because the energy given off during sex sustains them. The man was turned into a succubus and then starved, for the demon lord denied him any type of coupling. He fed the body bread and water, but it was the man's demonic side that was starving. Finally, the hunger took him over. He could not remember who he was or what he knew. All he could think about was the hunger._

_And then the demon lord released him, and through him in a room, where his wife had been held in waiting. The man only knew that there was a woman there. I will not speak of what he did to her, for you're too young to hear it, Sango. But when the man remembered who he was again, he found himself staring at the body of his wife. The warmth he had loved had fled from her, and the love in her gaze was gone._

_The man fled, mad. He had killed his wife and he did not know what to do._

_Alone, cold and distraught, he wandered. Finally, he came upon a group of demons. They took him in, told him how to harness his new found energy. They nursed him back to health. At last, he told them what had happened to him, and that he hated the demon lord._

_They did too…_

_

* * *

_

"_You aren't the first person he's done something like this to," Urahara said. He watched the fire flicker in the night. He hugged his nephew, sleeping by his side, closer against the enclosing darkness. He looked across the fire at the man with the clear violet-blue eyes and the dark hair. "Shabranigdo enjoys playing with humans. All the other clans are fighting back against him…"_

"_I want to fight too!" the man cried, leaping up. At once his eyes flashed the violet of amethyst and then they calmed down to blue once more, changing the way a cat's changed from yellow to green as it moved in the night. "I can fight! I'm a good fighter. He took my Barean from me and I want my revenge!"_

_Urahara shook his head, his mane of blond hair one of the few spots of color in the shape-shifter encampment. "It's not that easy. These things take time, and…"_

"_Please!" The man jumped across the fire and knelt down beside Urahara. His body was lean and muscular, much like the bodies of the male shifters in the camp. He took Urahara's hand, holding it tightly. "Please, Urahara! I'm begging you! Let me help!"_

_Urahara didn't see that he had reason to say no. He introduced the man to the other clan leaders: to Torafuthe leader of the tiger clan, to Kariodu of the housecat tribe. He then began to slowly expand the man into the other circles. He introduced him to the leader of the dog-tribe, Sesshomaru, and to the wolf tribe, Kiba, and the hawks, the eagles, and the others._

_Finally, he introduced him to the leaders of the entire rebellion, the brother and sister of Shabranigdo, the lady of the moon and the lord of the sun. As he was the lord of fire and shadows, so they ruled the sky with him. At once the Lady saw that the human male was a worthy ally. _

_

* * *

_

_She made him work for us. She gave him jobs, small assignments to do. He did them, infiltrating the ranks of Shabranigdo's lesser followers. He continued to rise through Shabranigdo's ranks. He worked unerringly, with passion. He was a hard worker, eager to learn and become stronger. Finally, the followers of Shabranigdo brought him to their lord. Imagine how pleased Shabranigdo was when his lover returned to him!_

_Barean's husband harnessed the anger he felt to Shabranigdo, burying it so far down that there was no way the demon lord could sense it. He used it as fuel. He never once denied Shabranigdo anything. He was such a loyal servant that some of the demons on our side began questioning his loyalty. But still the Lady trusted him, saying that Shabranigdo was poisoning their faithful servant more by making him his plaything. _

_The Lord and Lady had found a way to destroy Shabranigdo's power and send him and his followers back to their own plane. The spell was not complicated, but it would take time to cast, and they needed to bring Shabranigdo into their circle and then to keep him there while they worked. It had been for this reason that the Lady had decided to use Barean's husband. He would lead Shabranigdo to a place the Lady would select, and then our armies would keep him there and protect the Lady from the help he would summon._

_So that's what we did. He fooled Shabranigdo into going out with him into the woods alone. How, I don't know. Maybe by then his powers had grown and he could persuade Shabranigdo with the power of his mind. I wasn't there. I was with my tribe, there to defend the Lady against Shabranigdo's followers._

_We knew it started when we heard a roar shatter the silence of the night. It bellowed and echoed in our ears and shook the trees and mountains. Shabranigdo had been trapped and was calling for his followers. Like a wave of foggy ghosts they rose from the shadows; like a wall of vaporous arms and shrieks they came at us. _

_

* * *

_

_Urahara brushed back his bangs from his face, gripping his sword in his clammy hand. He was afraid, but he dared not show it. Who wouldn't be afraid watching an army of desperate, passionate… _things _coming at them? There were vampires, monsters, demons, dragons, ogres, giants, drow elves, winged animals, shifters… the list went on._

_He turned to look at his men; fellow shape-shifters whom he had watched grow up. They were scared too. For them, then, he wouldn't be afraid. He'd be their young, brave leader, just as he was supposed to be._

_Raising his sword and bellowing a battle cry that sounded more like a cat's roar than a man's, he charged back at the crowd of incoming demons. Silver and claws flashed. Urahara thought for sure he was going to be impaled on the wall of swords and spears as he charged, but he was not. He was suddenly swept up in the wave of warm bodies, skin, scales, and of biting claws, nipping swords and shredding teeth. He fought back with tooth and nails and claws, and especially sword. Beheading would kill anything. His hair was damp with blood and sweat. The mixture ran down his face and he snarled in annoyance, yet still he fought. _

_His blood sang. He was in his element. This was what lions did: they fought and protected their loved ones. He barely looked at whom he attacked anymore. So long as they were not one of his family members or friends, he attacked, because they attacked him._

_An elbow bumped him and he turned, his sword lifted to strike the head from the offending body. He stopped at the last second: dark hair, deep brown skin and phenomenal eyes. Gold eyes. It was one of his family members, a cat shifter, like him. Yoichiru. She was one of the first, like him. Urahara smiled with relief, glad to have stopped that deadly blade before he had made an irreversible mistake._

_He turned, knowing that his back was safe so long as Yoichiru was there, when a heavy weight suddenly landed on his back. Close, warm breath made the hair on the back of his neck raise. The soft earth filled his mouth, gritty and sticky, and clogged his nose, making him sneeze. He felt sharp teeth brush his neck and he reacted immediately, managing to roll over despite the claws digging into his shoulders, forcing the body off of him. Sand and dirt dug into the fresh wound on his back, stinging in the cut. What hurt more was the sight of the cat over him, readying her claws: the sleek black body and the gold eyes—phenomenal eyes—could belong to no one but Yoichiru. She swiped at him and he didn't move, in shock. The claws landed on his chest. Streaks of red pain lanced through his torso to his stomach. He feared he was disembowled._

_That was it. He was dying. He knew he was. He was going to die. He couldn't fight Yoichiru. She was one the first, the first panther shifter. He loved her. He respected her. Hell, she had been the one to teach him to fight. He couldn't win against him._

_And as the human, rational part of Urahara's mind gave up, the animal inside took over. Urahara's lips drew up revealing sharp, glistening fangs. The sword dropped on the dirt and he pushed himself up with the last remnants of his human arms. His bones cracked up popped and his flaxen hair covered his body in a soft, down-like coat. A tail lashed out behind him, thick and powerful. It gave him the balanced he needed to pounce, pushing off with legs that could disembowel anything, given the right angle._

_The mountain lion leapt at Yoichiru, snarling, saliva caught between the long fangs. He tackled Yoichiru with his full weight, pushing her back on the ground. His claws dug into her skin and hers into his, trying to leech unto the thick muscle under the protective fur and skin. They rolled, covering each other in bloody mud and dust and grass. Snarling, clawing, and biting they were transformed into a deadly gold and black ball that wriggled, squirmed, and howled in rage and pain._

_Finally, Yoichiru made a mistake. Furious at his persistence, she lunged for the back of his neck, planning on using her jaws to crush his backbone. She forgot the very first rule she had ever taught Urahara: never expose your neck or belly. Urahara charge in under the attack. Her claws struck his shoulders and he faltered, but his jaws seized her neck. _

_Immediately she went limp in his jaws and his momentum slammed her body on the ground. She lay there, dazed and staring at the night sky. Her eyes seemed to glow in the starry night. Urahara wheezed, his nose shut with blood and dirt. He could taste her blood on his tongue. He was sure she was dead. The blood loss alone might kill her…_

_He let her go and walked away, limping from his sore back and shoulder muscles, the parts which had taken the brunt of all of her attacks. His long, bushy tail brushed the ground as he dragged himself away._

_And when his back was turned she, furious that he was leaving, rolled and grabbed unto whatever was closest, biting down as hard as she could. Urahara dropped as the bones in one of his legs cracked. The pain was unbearable. He turned, snarling, to see his best friend and teacher clinging to him. Her face was matted, her beautiful face covered with garbage and torn from his own claws. She clung on, refusing to let go. He could feel her saliva and his blood mingling to dampen his light fur. _

_

* * *

_

"_And then?"_

_Sango had asked her question nervously. Urahara had paused as he told her about the war—about the event that his people had tried to ignore for so long that they had reduced it to myths. She was worried that asking him to continue on such a painful subject was rude. Even now, millennia after the fact, his blue eyes still looked misty as he spoke of his best friend's treason._

_He sat beside her on her bed. Somehow, he had gotten a hold of one of Sango's old stuffed animals and was holding it, brushing it absentmindedly. His hat lay beside him on the bed._

_With a deep breath Urahara continued. "Yoichiru and I were the first. We were the first panther-shifter and the first mountain lion-shifter, just as Torafu was the first tiger-shifter. Sango… as the first… we have a… _purer… _demonic heritage, I suppose is the right way of putting it," he struggled to say. "We can heal faster. We can move faster. Our age is slowed down the most. It took as a long time to learn what our bodies could do, but we knew at that point. We were immortal."_

_Sango took his statement in stride. There was no such thing as immortal except for those few demons who had crossed over from the astral plane for the very first time. Even they weren't _really _immortal. Eventually they would run out of energy and they would simply vanish, ceasing to exist. She was a science student. Biology and chemistry proved to her that there was no such thing as immortality._

"_I can die, if I want to. I can _force _myself to age. I can force myself to die. I can die if I receive enough wounds. I can die if I am beheaded. I suppose I could even starve myself to death. But I will live forever if those things don't happen. As my body keeps aging, it also keeps fixing itself. Yoichiru was like that too, but she was dying. The only wounds our bodies will heal normally is the bite of another immortal. She couldn't heal her throat. Yet as she lay there, gripping my leg in her jaws, I couldn't attack her. I should have gone and retrieved my sword and put her out of her misery, but to do that she'd have to let go and she wouldn't. She hung on to me until she died, and even then, she wouldn't let go."_

_Sango looked at him dubiously. She wished that Urahara would stop surprising her with these things. She didn't know how to react. This reaction, though, felt more violent than the others. She could feel it rising up within her, stopping in her throat. She wanted to yell and cry and scream out her frustrations._

_Immortals? How was she supposed to fit immortals into the world!_

"_You walk with a limp," she pointed out. Her voice sounded ambiguous and detached. She seemed to be using it as proof that he was lying. "You walk with a cane because you have a limp. If you could heal anything, then what use would you have with a wooden cane?"_

_He shook his head. His blonde hair was limp. "Yoichiru gave me those wounds when she broke my ankle. It still hurts, sometimes. I walk with a limp because I don't think the wound ever entirely healed. It's my personal theory that their bite is like poison to us. My genes and hers locked within my body, somewhere, fighting an endless battle as she tries to destroy me and I try to live."_

_Urahara set down the stuffed bunny rabbit back on the bed. He lifted his hands and began pulling off his shirt. Sango sat motionless beside him, her hands gripping her bed frame. It anchored her reality, keeping her sanity and her focus._

_He looked back over at her, his shirt beside him, laying over his hat. Sango was purposefully looking away. With a sigh, he reached over and took her hand. It flinched away. Urahara took it again, this time quicker. Slowly, he brought the hand up to rest on his shoulders, running her fingertips over his skin. Sango could feel the hard, raised skin of old scars. She still didn't look at him, not until he said her name. Then she looked._

_White scars lined his shoulders and his back. She could see, however faintly, white dots on her shoulder plates, more like slits, in an all too familiar pattern. The pattern left there looked like they could have been left by her hands—by her paws. She ran her fingers over them, feeling the skin._

_Proof. _Proof! _Jesus Christ, he was giving her proof._

"_When were you planning on telling me?" she asked quietly. Sango retracted her hand and held it between her knees. She was forcing it to stay still, to keep from touching that proof more._

_Urahara slipped his shirt back on, playing with his hand as he sat on the bed, staring at the floor. "Maybe never. Maybe if you'd asked about the limp or the scars, maybe. I wasn't supposed to tell, Sango, even if I wanted to. And I did. I wanted to tell you when you were little, when you would help me in the laboratory. I wanted to tell you then, when your school was feeding you rules and regulations that everything dies, that things have to be quantitative or qualitative—measurable—to be real. I've been trying to find out for centuries why I'm immortal. Why people like me can't die. I've find squat. There's nothing there to measure. My blood is just like yours. My muscles act the same. My heart pumps no more or no less, but I am proof that it exists… and I don't know why._

"_I wanted to tell you then. You were such a smart little girl, Sango, so inquisitive that…that I thing that's when I knew I loved you, in more than the way I'd loved your father or your mother. I didn't love you because I was your friend. I wanted to spend my life with you. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you trying to discover the answer to every 'why' question we could think of. And I'd grow old for you._

"_I've been tired for so very long Sango. But there's still one thing I've never done. I don't have any children. I don't even know if I can have any children. I would like to try, though. I want to learn more, to experiment more, and to watch my children grow up. I always had so much pleasure the first time I heard a child speak for the first time or to watch them stand for the first time. It made me feel such joy and pride. And if that was what it felt for you, or your mother, imagine what it would be like for my own children…"_

_His voice trailed away. He slipped his hat back on his head and he leaned over, kissing Sango on the cheek. She didn't return his kiss, and he took no offense at it._

"_I'll be in my room if you need me. I should let you rest. If you need to talk, at all, please…"_

"_I will," she interrupted. She couldn't bring herself to smile at him to let him know it was all right. It would be all right. Sango knew that. Urahara was her oldest and closest friend. She did love him, and she knew she always would. Deep down, she had already forgiven him for not telling her earlier. Sango understood secrets. Sango understood secrets intimately._

_She just needed to come to terms with it. Urahara, never dying. Urahara, aging for her. Urahara, lying to her. Urahara, dying for her._

_She just needed to come to terms with it._

_

* * *

_

"He died fighting Shabranigdo. His blood was the last thing they needed to open the mortal." Sango forced herself to finish her story. She didn't like how Miroku was so quiet and pale, staring at the desk in the small room. He wasn't looking at her. He hadn't been looking at her for the longest time. "Before he left, before he died… he left a kid, Miroku. A little boy. It took three years for him to make his way into the upper circle and to get Shabranigdo to trust him. In that time, he had a kid with his second wife. That kid grew up, and kids of his own, and passed the story down until it became legend.

"When we began to take last names… they picked Junkyousha. Martyr, after what had happened to their forefather. That's _your_ last name, Miroku. Junkyousha Miroku. Your whole family has a history of dying early and of being monks, with very few children. You're the last.

"It's _your_ blood they need Miroku. It's your forefather's blood. They need the blood of a traitor, or your blood, of _his_ blood."

Miroku licked his dry lips. His grey eyes didn't move from the table. "You're saying I'm descended from a demon…"

Sango could understand the pain in his voice. He had been raised to believe he was human and now he found out that might be a lie. "No, Miroku. Those events happened so long ago that all the demon blood is gone. You're as human or Ranma or Akane, or Uncle Kakashi. No, there's only one thing left that gives you claim to a demon heritage: your empathy. Your whole family has a gift of empathy or telepathy."

He was quiet again. "That's why my father tried to burn us. They need our blood. You can't get blood from a skeleton."

She nodded. "Ranma and Akane looked into the newspapers. These disappearances were happening before, when you were about five. No one could make sense of it. Then they suddenly stopped, after the house burned down. They stopped because they thought they had lost the one thing they needed: your blood. Then, for whatever reason, they started again because they found out that you existed. That you're alive, I mean."

Miroku turned to look at her finally. His grey eyes were hurt and dazed, lacking the laughter Sango had admired so long. "If they want my blood, then why not kill me too? We can burn the bed. I can just…" He stopped mid-sentence. Miroku knew he couldn't do it; he couldn't kill himself. Neither would Sango let him. He reached over and took her hand, trying to console her.

"I'm sorry I even brought up that thought. I know it's logical… think of what I could stop! They could never bring back Shabranigdo again if I died. But… I don't want to die, and it's not fair that I have to. It's not fair that I should die because of something my ancestor did hundreds and thousands of years ago."

Sango squeezed his hand. "I know…"

"Besides, I have friends here," he continued. "I can't leave. And I want to bring these summoners to justice, for people like Eve. Me dying won't help justice…" Miroku trailed off, trying to think of something to say to change the topic and to lighten the situation. "You know, you still owe me a kiss."

She smiled at him. "I know."

They stared at each other uncomfortably. Miroku looked away first, picking small fuzzy balls of wool from the blanket which covered his lap. Sango watched the way his hands adeptly moved, looking so strange and graceful, and the concentration on his face. He was debating something. She didn't know why she was so sure of it, but she was. He was debating something.

"I think there's something I want to clear up, Sango," Miroku finally said. Sango listened and said nothing. "About this thing… between you and I and Urahara? I feel, Sango, like it's very hard for you to open up to me compared to him. And I think I know why. It's because of what I said? It's because Urahara is always holed up in his workshop, tinkering away at something or another, and I'm not. I've gone out with other girls, done things with other girls… and you think that you're just another fling. Isn't that right?"

She didn't want to answer. She looked inside herself, and she knew it was true. It wasn't that her doubt over Miroku's intent was a constant thing. Most of the time she was more concerned over his welfare. Simply… every now and then, she found herself wondering why Miroku liked her. Was she just a rebound from Eve? Was she just a conquest? At least with Urahara, she'd had years of experience. She knew why they liked each other: they were friends, they had the same interest… they had that comfortable silence, where they could sit down and watch a movie and not speak and simply be happy. She didn't have that with Miroku. If their present situation was an example of anything, they had just the opposite.

"I don't," she lied. She didn't want to hurt him.

Miroku studied her face, and then he slowly smiled. It wasn't a smile of relief. It was warm and patient, and just a little injured. "Don't lie to an empath, Sango. It doesn't work. You're lying to me. You may not think it all the time, but you've questioned my doubts now and then."

His fingers brushed her cheek, turning her to look at him. His grey eyes seemed endless. For such a cool shade, they were warm. Sango was beginning to feel the blood creep up to her cheeks. "That's why right now, more than anything, I want to tell you how I feel about you. If something did happen to me—I mean, looking at what we're up against—I want to make sure I have myself in good standing with you. You see, I'm a very selfish person, Sango."

Miroku's hand slipped to her shoulder and he gently drew her down, laying her head over his heart and resting his chin on her dark hair. She could hear his heartbeat. It was beating very fast. She sighed, listening to it, as those adept hands brushed her hair. Against his body, his hand stroking her hair, Sango was in bliss.

"I love you, Sango. I do. I want to date you because I want to learn how much I love you. You make me feel… strange. Sometimes it's so hard for me to be able to let you go. I just want to keep you safe and protected and to tell everyone to back off from you. I want to be… assertive. And it's so hard, sometimes, to remind myself that you can take care of yourself. I look at you and I don't see someone who can wield a gun or can chase down demons. I see… I see myself, and I know I couldn't chase down demons.

"I love you because you're beautiful, smart, sexy, exciting and exotic and you can kick my ass, Sango." He chuckled and Sango smiled. "I love you because I want to see what you look like, what you really look like. I love you because you're so much like me. I mean, you've been through things like I have so you can understand me. I think you can understand me better than I can understand myself. I love you because I hold you, like this… and it feels right. It does. I feel like I have something I lost very, very long ago…"

His voice trailed off and he ended in a sigh. Sango felt him lean his head down and press a kiss against the crown of her head. He rubbed his cheek against her hair and she steadied herself by wrapping her arms around him. Maybe it was because he was holding her or brushing her, but at that moment, she felt like she belonged there. But the things he was saying made her uncomfortable…

"I'd do anything for you, Sango. I think… with the things we've been through, that you're the world to me. I'm not after you for gloating rights or for sex, Sango. I wish I could lend you my powers, just for a day, so that you could see I'm telling the truth. If there's something I can do to prove to you that I'm telling the truth, please, tell me."

Her answer made her feel guilty. "I don't think you can prove something like that," she pointed out. Miroku was silent and Sango began to think she should leave. "I should go. You need your rest."

Miroku's arm tightened around her shoulder. "Don't go. Not yet. Stay a little longer with me, please? I missed you while I was sleeping. Just let me enjoy your company a little bit longer."

It sounded more like he was asking a parent to leave on a nightlight or to keep a favorite stuffed animal by his side. Sango could hear the worry and fear in his voice. She didn't understand it. They had Suichiro. She was in the IBSP. She was safe, and so was he. Regardless of which of them the summoners were after, they were safe, yet his fear persisted. His beating heart was still fast. Sango knew she couldn't leave.

"I'll stay for a bit longer."

* * *

She stayed until he fell asleep, and then she stayed for a bit longer. She didn't particularly want to leave him, as inviting as her own bed was. Sango wasn't even sure what time of day it was. She just knew that she felt emotionally drained and that she could use some sleep. 

Lifting herself off the bed, Sango looked up and realized that Miroku's medicine lay beside him on the table. He'd neglected to take them. Maybe she should wake… no. Sango took one look at that slumbering face—the way his face was so relaxed, his breath easier than the first time she'd heard it in the past few weeks—and she knew she couldn't wake him.

Sango paused and turned back to the medicine. She recognized some of them. She recognized the willow-bark pills—the natural ones, not that synthesized Advil crap. She also recognized the sedatives. Amy had prescribed those for her before, from when Sango had been little and kept reliving the fire that had killed her parents to being in high school and over exhausted. Something was missing…

The pills Kagura had given Miroku! They were missing.

Something about it made Sango arch an eyebrow. Amy was a good nurse. She had natural talent, as well as psychic ones. Why wouldn't Amy have given Miroku pills to help turn down his abilities? It seemed like the right thing to do. Sango couldn't imagine how Miroku could possibly get a good night's sleep if his dreams were punctuated by the interference of another's thoughts or auras.

'I'll just add them… place them by his bedside for him. He can take them if he wakes up at night.' Where were they? Miroku had been good about taking his medicine. Sango gathered he probably kept a pill-bottle in his jacket or pants' pocket to make sure there was always medicine nearby when his watch went off.

A quick search in his pants, still neatly folded on a waiting chair, revealed the pill box. She placed them by his bed and turned to leave… and then she turned back. She was curious. What was in the pill box? Was it the right medicine? What had been Miroku been popping for so long?

She picked it up. It was a silver box. The silver itched Sango's hands and she smiled wryly. She was a shapeshifter, not unlike a werewolf. Silver was deadly to her kind. Touching it, however, yielded nothing more than an annoying itch. If poor Urahara touched the box he'd probably get burned. It looked like a cigarette holder more than a pill box. Sango opened it, feeling fair foolish with herself.

"Sango, you're an idiot," she chided herself. "Digging through Miroku's things like it's any of your business. You should be ashamed of yourself. Do you honestly think that you're going to find something that'll…" She stopped when she opened the box. Inside lay his pills. If she had been expecting to find something that would make her hate Miroku, she had been duped.

Closing the box and setting it down beside Miroku, Sango paused. She leaned over and kissed his forehead. "Sweet dreams, Miroku." He sighed, and she fancied he'd heard her.

Yawning, she opened the door. Something still didn't feel right. Something was still nagging her. Little alarm bells were ringing off in her head. If only she could figure it out!

Hands reached out of the open doorway and grabbed her. Sango, surprised, opened her mouth to scream, but no sound ever came out. A cloth—a smelly, white terry cloth—covered her mouth. Sango could taste whatever coated the cloth on her tongue. It made her want to gag. It covered her mouth and nose, clamped down by a hand. She could feel herself panic. She couldn't breath! She couldn't get in oxygen!

She struggled against the owner of the hands—nothing more than a strong arm wrapped around her chest and the hand covering her mouth with that horrible white cloth. She felt her kicks land and someone grunt behind her, but her strenuous activity made her breath heavier. Her eyelids felt droopy. Her head felt fuzzy. She could feel her attacks become lighter, and her struggling slowly faded away. She spent all her energy trying to not let her eyes close.

The hands released her and she fell, limp, to the ground. Some part of her, very distant, screamed in pain as her head struck the ground. The rest of her didn't seem to care. One of the hands reached out and turned her over. She found herself staring up at a foggy image. The owner of the hands leaned down to see if she was knocked out yet. Sango found herself staring at a man with dark hair and dark eyes. It was a familiar face.

Suichiro!

"Not out yet?" He placed the hand over her face again until her eyes closed.

He stood up, dusting off his hands. Miroku hadn't heard a thing. The poor boy was still laying there, helpless as a kitten as he slept in bed. It would be so easy to do it…

But no. He had his orders. They needed Miroku alive for now.

So they would take Sango until it became time to dispose of Miroku.

* * *

To be continued... 


	31. Bang, Bang

Chapter Thirty-One: Bang, Bang

The wheels of the car sped along as Ranma steered the black Excel toward the rendez-vous. Akane, sitting beside him, looked up from her map. In the dying light her hair reflected the orange sky back out the window and her skin looked like the color of peaches.

"So when did you first begin being trained in martial arts?" she inquired.

Ranma shrugged his stiff shoulders. "I can't really remember. I was really young, I know that. My dad took me from my mom when I was a little kid, promising to make me 'a man among men'. They both wanted a kid who was good at fighting, who could defend himself and others… I think Pop took me as soon as I was old enough to walk."

Akane's jaw dropped. "Ranma! That's… that's inhuman!"

He shrugged again. This time the movement was stiffer. He was defensive. "I didn't mind it. I mean, I basically got to grow up playing with my Pop. Sure, I missed my Mom, but I wanted to make her proud of me. Pop said the way to do that was to train. So I trained and I trained. Sometimes Dad has these really twisted ideas as to how to train me."

"Like?" she prompted as they rounded corner.

He didn't answer. Instead he glanced over at her. "Why all the sudden questions about me and how I learned to fight?" he asked.

It was her turn to shrug. "Sometimes I don't think we talk enough. Don't get me wrong, Ranma. You're a quiet person, and I think I'd prefer a good book or a sparring session over talking, but I suddenly realized on the way over here that I don't really know much about you… history wise."

"History-wise? How many ways can you know a person, Akane?" She pursed her lips when she picked up on the sarcastic tone in his voice. He was making fun of her.

"There are lots of ways to know a person! There's physically knowing them. There's knowing how a person thinks or acts. And then there's knowing about a person's past, like how they became a really good martial artist and a member of the IBSP."

"Not much to tell. I trained a lot, until people from the IBSP took notice of me. They took over my training from my dad. Pop went back home a rich man and told my mom some cock and bull story about how I was going to a prestigious school for gifted men, and I learned fighting and writing and math and stuff from the IBSP."

She didn't answer. He risked a glance over at her. Her blue eyes were large. She swallowed and then spoke in a whispered voice. "Your father _sold_ you to the IBSP?"

Ranma looked away quickly. He moved in his seat, finding it suddenly very sticky and uncomfortable. "I don't want to talk about it, okay?"

"Ranma…"

"I said I don't want to talk about it!"

Akane jumped in the car seat. Ranma immediately felt bad. He had never raised his voice to Akane before. He could tell she was hurt. She avoided his gaze completely and her eyes were fixed at her shoes. Her cheeks suddenly flamed red and she looked either like she was going to yell or to cry. Ranma turned back to the road and pulled the car over. He took his hands off the wheel and laid them helplessly in his lap.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. You can hit me or… or yell back if you'd like."

Akane shook her head. Her short bangs were long enough to hide her eyes from him. "Oh, Ranma. You're such an idiot."

"I know I am," he agreed. "Come on… please, Akane?" He was looking for a way out, looking for someway to have her hurt him so that she wouldn't be the only one injured. He didn't like seeing Akane look like she was going to cry. Of course, as of late he hadn't liked seeing her angry, either. That usually resulted with him getting hit. He liked it when she laughed and smiled. She looked so… so…

_Cute_.

He sighed. "Look, I just don't like to talk about being a kid, okay? It's… hard. Like I said, Pop put me through some crazy shit. I just can't stand to have you look at me like that. Outta pity. I have a good life now. I have a job. I'm in University. When you're eight years old and the only thing you can spell is your own name, University seems impossible, but I made it. I have friends. I have you and Sango. And I have a family. Miroku's the brother I never had, and Fuu and Ferio treat me like their own. If you really want to… to know how I grew up… I…" He stuttered, and bit his tongue to keep it from going on. He took a deep breath, gathered his courage, and forced it all out. "I guess I can tell you…"

"Oh, Ranma…"

"Just… not now, okay?"

Ranma looked up at Akane, but never got the chance. As he turned his head to meet hers, her cheek brushed his. He felt her lips press against his cheek and then she pulled away, leaving him speechless. He watched, as if in a dream, as she offered him one of her smiles, the kind that surpassed cute, the kind that was downright beautiful.

"Thank you."

The ride after that was short and silent. As Ranma parked the car by the building, Akane stared up at it dubiously. It looked… well, the building looked like shit. It was dimly lit on the outside and on the inside there wasn't any light at all. Graffiti covered the walls and garbage on the ground. As Akane shut the car door she could hear little scratchy noises on the littered ground.

"Rats… I hate rats…"

"There should be a flash… got it." A beam of light erupted from Ranma's hand. Akane jumped when she saw a rat scuttle away to hide in a Styrofoam container. He came to Akane's side and she saw a faint grin on his face. "Don't like rats, Akane?"

She pursed her lips. "In my defense, I'm not usually this squeamish. I can kill roaches and spiders and other bugs without any problem at all. I just don't like rats. They're big. They're ugly. They carry diseases and eat carrion. I _loathe_ rats!" She tried to change the topic. Just thinking about anything with pointy teeth and long, naked tails made her shiver in disgust. "So, this is where we're supposed to meet… you know, this whole setup it screaming trap." She checked to make sure that she had her gun handy. It was securely in her shoulder strap.

"If there were another way to make this place look like a trap, I can't think of it," Ranma agreed. He walked towards the entrance.

"You're still going in?" Akane demanded.

He glanced over his shoulder at her. "If these guys were kind enough to set up a trap for me, then the least I can do is beat the crap out of them. If you don't want to come in," he added, "I'll understand. You can wait here in the car."

Akane growled in frustration and hurried after him. "I'm coming too!"

* * *

The figure stood amongst the shadows. It watched the stream of light bob only a little as the martial artist carried it in, walking. Behind him, Akane's white shirt was the only thing making her stand out in the darkness. The figure spoke to the shadows around him.

"Try not to kill the girl. I feel bad when girls die. They are supposed to be such nurturing characters, not the aggressors. You can rip apart the boy, though." The shadows around him moved and bobbed up and down, pleased at this information. "The boss just wants to make sure that neither of them will be able to help their partners."

The shadows moved again, straining to free themselves from the boxes and walls that kept them contained. He closed his eyes, listening to their anger and rage as they tried to kill, kill, kill. He lifted a hand. The shadow came away from it, trailing between his fingers like black water.

"We have our mission."

* * *

Inside the building it was just as dingy. The floor was coated with dirt. Ranma's trail of feet foraged between garbage, empty boxes, and rat feces. Akane's lips curled in disgust when she saw them. She could hear them still, making little squeaking noises and running over garbage, their claws making little scratchy noise. The only benefit was that it was a little lighter in the building.

The windows had been broken some time ago. Spider webs clung to the jagged pieces. Light came from the dim streetlights inhibited as it slunk into the building. The spider webbing cast a shadow on the dirt floor, making it look like a large mosaic. Akane kept her eyes on the floor, watching where she stepped. When she saw a dark pool in the floor of what looked like recent blood, Akane groped in front of her for Ranma's shoulder.

"Ranma…"

"Shh. Do you hear that?"

Akane leaned forward. Ranma's eyes were closed at his head was tilted slightly. He was listening to say it. Whatever it was, Akane couldn't hear it. She glanced down at the ground again, movement catching her eye. Nothing was moving. She was being… no. There it was again. Akane's eyes widened.

'But… but that was a shadow…' She chided herself for being so easily startled. 'Shadows don't move, Tendo Akane. Get a grip on yourself.'

She could hear whispers. They were faint. Akane turned back up to Ranma, surprised. He could hear that before her? She was impressed. 'He must have senses like Sango to be able to pick up on something so subtle.' The voices were sibylline. Akane couldn't make out what they were saying. She wondered if Ranma could. Her hand still lay on his shoulder. "Can you make out what they're saying?"

His eyes opened and her hand fell away as Ranma braced himself. His stance changed only slightly. Ranma prided himself on his agility. Akane, following suit, rooted herself. She spread her legs and sank down closer to the ground, putting her back to Ranma's and lifting her hands to defend her torso.

"They're here."

She looked up. Men lined the room. Akane wondered where they had all come from. How had they not heard them surround them? How had the not realized that they were surrounded? And… Akane peered closer at them through the dim light. Their skin was grey. They wore shades over their eyes. And they were wearing business suits, black business suits. Akane shut her eyes briefly, reaching out with her energy. She pulled it back in as fast as she could, gasping heavily.

"What is it?"

"They… they don't have any chi. I can't feel them. It's like… it's like they're not there at all. It's like they're black holes or… or… aah!" Akane screamed when something cold wrapped around her foot. She felt suddenly very weak, as scared as she was. Akane looked down. A grey-skinned hand had grabbed her foot… a grey-skinned hand with the hand still attached to the shadow writhing on the floor!

"Akane!" Ranma spun around. She could tell exactly when he saw what it was that had gotten her because the color drained from his face. Ranma lifted his foot and stopped on the hand. It went right through the hand, collapsing it into shadow once more. His arms wrapped around Akane, holding her steady until she regained her balance. "What the hell was that?"

Akane was shaking. Her legs felt like jelly, but somehow she managed to stand up on her own two feet. Ranma's body, so sturdy, was nearby. She didn't want to be weak in front of him, and so she locked her legs and vowed to remain there. "Shadow magic," she replied.

"What?"

Akane was already reaching into her shoulder strap for her gun. "I've read about them before. Dad specializes in illusionary magic, but he's never been able to do anything like this. The most he can get is an illusion of his own face, but demonic in appearance." She glanced at Ranma. His gun wasn't out. "Where's your pistol?"

He shrugged. "I don't carry one!"  
"Ranma!"

She was chiding him. Ranma was exasperated. "What?" he demanded, fiercer this time.

"They're regulation!"

She seemed to have taken him by surprise. Ranma slowly smirked. His dark eyes were full of mischief. She saw why Miroku liked him now, why they were friends. Miroku always had that light in his eyes. He was always looking for a way to twist someone's words to make a joke or to play a small prank. Ranma had that same streak of juvenility in him, but it was hidden much deeper. He always on guard, ever the warrior waiting for a fight, much like Sango. Underneath that there looked the rebel who loved to cause trouble.

"When have _I_ ever followed the rules, Akane?" He turned his back to her, waiting for them to attack and charge at him. "I much prefer hand to hand combat. Guns can be turned against you. My body is my weapon, and that can't be turned against me."

Akane had to agree with them. She pulled the safety off and aimed at one of the shadow men. "Fair enough. Still, as of the last scroll I've read, these guys haven't met twentieth century technology. Let's see if a gun will do anything to these guys…" She took aim and fired. Her aim was perfect. A small hole appeared in a man's chest, and then filled itself in again. Akane watched in the dim light as a cloud of dust lifted from the box into which her bullet had become embedded.

"I guess not…"

Akane, knowing that Ranma _was _right and seeing that her gun could do nothing, pulled out the clip and threw the gun to the feces-scattered ground. She wouldn't let her own firearm become a liability. She shoved the clip into her back pocket and lifted her hands.

And then the men in the suits attacked.

Ranma dodged under a blow and struck the man's kidneys. He didn't seem to be a terrible amount of pain from the strike. Ranma's strikes were concise and powerful, and yet it was Ranma who was the worst for wear. He felt like his strength, when he had touched that man, had suddenly begun being pulled from him, drunk from his essence in greedy, guzzling gulps.

He swore. Behind him, Akane heard him and continued talking, explaining. Using her mind, she swept up a wave of attackers and flung them at the wall. "Shadow magic. They're made of shadows. Someone is controlling them, giving them a form and a body, so that they can hit and be hit…"

"They ain't feeling no pain, _Akane_!" Ranma spat, frustrated. Another blow, this one to the temple, should have felled a man to his knees. Instead the man stood there and took it, striking back at Ranma. Ranma took the blow, afraid of moving in case he and Akane were separated. It _hurt_.

Ranma had been hit a lot, especially as a kid. His father had never done it maliciously. It was from training. Still, it hadn't stopped Ranma's skin from bruising from blocking attacks or from having the wind knocked out of him if he were too slow. That was how Ranma had gotten so fast with his blows and his parries. It had been beaten into him. But these attacks were different. There was the same malleability in his flesh, the same dull ache after the blow had been delivered. And yet… his skin where he was touched felt cold. Rather than bruising it broke out into patches of goose bumps.

And he felt so weak… so tired…

Hearing Akane curse forced Ranma awake again. He had to keep going! He was going to lose! His father hadn't raised him to be a loser.

"They don't have internal organs, Ranma. Punching them in the kidney or the throat won't do much good. They aren't human, Ranma! We need to find what drives them. There's a… a… a scroll! There's a scroll somewhere inside their bodies that animates them! Destroy that and then you'll find it!"

"How the hell am I supposed to… wait…" He looked down at his hands. They were closed fists. With a feral grin he opened his hands. He could do palm-strikes, keeping his hands open so that as he punched and parried if he found the scroll animating the shadows he could withdraw it.

_She knows too much, the girl_, he could hear from somewhere in the shadows. It seemed inhuman. It seemed too cold and distant to belong to someone human. Akane didn't seem to hear it. Ranma was so busy fighting it took him a long time to know what he was hearing…

No. Not hearing. He wasn't exactly hearing it, not with his ears. He could… he could _read_ it, in the shadow men, in the way they suddenly began attacking. They were trying to push him out of the way, to get to Akane. He could hear the punches and kicks Akane was landing, hearing her breath heavily and curse now and again. They were attacking her more fiercely. They perceived her as a threat, and they wanted to eliminate it.

Ranma punched one of them in the head so hard that his hand went through the man's head. He watched it with a strange feeling of detachment. Akane was right. They didn't have organs. There wasn't even resistance in the head. He watched as his hand broke through the other side, small trails of vaporous black tendrils being pushed out of the man's head and escaping into the air. It was like smoke. The man was made of smoke.

In his fascination, three more blows landed on him. Ranma gritted his teeth. He was getting pissed off. With a roar, he struck the next shadow man. His hand went through the man's chest. Ranma felt pain. There was the cold, numbing pain accompanied by the greedy gulping at the strength in his arm, and a new sensation. Something stung in his hand. Ranma squeezed, and heard the crinkling of paper.

The scroll!

The moment he had tightened his grip on that scroll the man had suddenly gone stiff with pain. Ranma pulled his arm back out at once, intent upon mercilessly shredding that paper into scraps so small nothing could come of them. He didn't have to. As soon as it was withdrawn, the white scroll turned black and the man vanished.

"Akane!" he cried, almost gleefully. He turned and threw a man off of her, striking another in the sternum and again feeling his hand close around a scroll. He pulled it out. "It's in their chest! It's at their sternum, right in the center of their bodies! Just reach in and pull it out!"

Akane did so. She gasped with surprise when the man turned to nothing in front of her and she held the black scroll in her hand. Her blue eyes narrowed and her lips turned up in a smile that reminded Ranma more of a grimace. She cracked her knuckles and sank down, becoming defensive.

"Oh, this is a much fairer fight," she grinned.

Heedless of the demise awaiting them at the hands of two young adults, the shadow-men rushed at them.

* * *

The man who had set them at Ranma and Akane, he knew. He could perceive the danger. Though outnumbered, he knew that his opponents had a very large chance of survival. They had discovered the weakness in his creations and they would exploit it. Ranma and Akane were both seasoned fighters. They knew how to take a hit. They knew how to fight.

More so, as he watched, they knew how to fight together. Akane, her back to Ranma's, was unmoving and unshakeable, firmly rooted in place. She seemed to derive the energy in her attacks from the earth, punching like an ox. However, she was slow. Ranma made up for that. He moved swiftly and fluidly, his movements so quick they seemed erratic. He was like a leaf in a breeze, twirling and moving to and fro with ease, and yet he was on control of that wind. He protected Akane, keeping the shadow men from surrounding her. He watched her back and her sides and he destroyed as many of them with lazy, easy swipes as Akane did with her punches. Neither of them were defensive. Both of them were playing the offensive, and yet, they protected each other.

Against such teamwork, his men would be defeated.

His army had only one strength to their real advantage against such opponents. Each time they hit, each time they were hit, they drained some of the strength from their opponents. Not the strength that made muscle work or a leg kick, no. This was _deep_ strength, the fuel that enflamed passion or hatred alike. Strong fighters had been known to simply collapse, incapable of gathering the energy to fight at the shadow men. Yet neither of these two showed signs of stopping.

He wondered why. What fueled them? Passion? Hatred? Fear? Yes, fear, that was a strong emotion. Men could fight until nothing was left in them from fear: fear of dying, fear of being weak, fear of seeing someone die. Fear was strong, but yet he didn't think that it was fear which drove Akane and Ranma. People who were afraid would not display such teamwork.

'No matter,' he thought to himself. His eyes landed on the gun Akane had thrown on the ground. If one of them were injured, their teamwork would not be as effective. If Akane's main arm were injured, she would not be able to kill his men. If Ranma's knee were damaged, he would not be able to stand, let alone to move. He need not shoot to kill. There was no need to make a mess or to deprive the shadow men their pleasure.

He need only shoot to injure.

The shadow men could take it from there.

* * *

Maybe it was because Ranma was moving so much. It was the only explanation Akane could make. Ranma had such better senses than she did! She could sense energy levels, _if she looked for them_. Not Ranma. He was such a well trained fighter that he didn't need to actively look to feel chi or to size someone up as an opponent. He did it on instinct, even in the most inane places: a grocery line, the sidewalk, a diner. He could pick out strengths and weaknesses, judge speed or power.

He wasn't always right. That wasn't the point. The point was that he was doing it subconsciously. How, Akane wondered, did Ranma not sense the human being?

She was stationary. She could see better. Her field of view wasn't constantly changing because she wasn't moving like Ranma, dodging and throwing and whipping kicks mid air. She was stationary to see her gun laying in the dust and the dirt. And she saw the hand reach from the shadows and pick up her gun.

It wasn't grey-fleshed. It was tanned, a bit darker than her own, but in the dim light of the abandoned warehouse it looked pale brown-peach. Akane's eyes widened as she saw the gun lift and the man step out enough from the shadows for her to pick out the edge of a pair of dress pants, a shirt, the edge of a face, and the glittering edge of her gun.

It was aimed right at her.

For half a second Akane smirked, pulling out another scroll. Her hands were moving independently of her mind, working steadily away without her mind interfering. She had taken the clip out. There weren't any bullets…

Yes.

Yes. There was _one_.

She'd fired. The gun automatically pulled a bullet from the clip into the barrel of the gun. It was loaded. There was only one shot, but it was a _gun_! One shot was all that was needed. Her mind seemed to freeze over, becoming cloudy and slow. 'One shot… from the right angle… it could take both of us out…' she thought to herself, horrified at the image her mind so maliciously laid out for her.

With that same malicious coldness it calculated the trajectory of the gun. Yes, it was aimed at her, but it was too far to the left, too high. Her legs were bent to give her that rooted stance she so loved. It was aiming… it was aiming at Ranma…

She watched the man pull back the safety. He wanted a clean shot. Akane didn't know what to do. To grab Ranma might be to make them vulnerable to the gun and to the shadow men. She could… she _could_ try to use her powers to move the bullet, but… but she'd never tried something like that before! Floating a book was one thing. It was a stationary object and she had time and concentration. Catching a _bullet_ was something completely and utterly different!

She watched the finger pull. She could feel it as Ranma turned in surprise to see the source of the sound. The remaining pieces of glass in the windows shook as the sound of the blast reverberated in the abandoned building. Akane didn't have any time left to consider. She tried to both things at once. She grabbed Ranma and threw herself over him, blocking his body with hers. Ranma gasped with surprise as her strong arms wrapped around his throat, so tight they choked. With her mind she fumbled for the bullet, but it was fast, constantly moving, spinning and flying through the air. She couldn't get a good grab on it…

_Yes!_ There it was. She didn't have to grab it, like she would a book. She just had to nudge it. She didn't have the time to nudge it. She didn't have the time to calculate the trajectory and where she was. Akane blasted it with her mind, shoving it away with a powerful swipe. The bullet veered off course, but not enough to miss them.

Akane let go of Ranma and dropped suddenly. Her hands flew from his neck to her leg, clutching it and feeling so suddenly pained that she felt like she was going to be ill. She could smell the blood. She could smell the blood dripping from her leg and muddying the ground beneath her. Her muscles shook as she tried to keep her leg bent, the wound in her calf up off the poisoned, dirty ground. Blood ran down her leg. Her sock felt wet.

The shadow men had stopped attacking. The man controlling them—the man with Akane's gun—stopped in surprise, and they stopped attacking with it.

Ranma was still in shock. He stared down at Akane as if he was suddenly scared of her. Not of what she was. He wasn't scared because she'd grabbed him or she had just veered a bullet off course, but because she had done it for _him_. She had gotten hurt for _him_.

"A… Akane…"

"I'm okay," she said through gritted teeth. She was fumbling with shaking hands to take off her belt, but she couldn't unbuckle it.

Ranma looked down at his own belt. It was cloth, a fighter's belt. Not the leather one Akane wore. He slipped it off easily and bent down, tying it above the wound to help to cut down on the bleeding. The bullet was embedded in her leg. It hadn't come out the other end. Akane looked up at with eyes that were red from crying. Her pink and nose stood out in her pale face. He was unnerved at the flesh-like color of her lips. Normally they were a healthy shade of pink.

"I don't think I feel very good," she admitted after holding his gaze. Her bottom lip shook and her eyes crinkled.

Ranma didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say. He stared back at her a moment, wishing he had something other than his belt to give her. He swallowed hard and stood up. The man still stood in the shadows, watching him.

"You hurt Akane," he growled. His feet sank into the dirt-covered floor as he sank down into a more defensive, rooted stance. Akane had never seen him hold a stance like that before. Normally that was her stance.

She was cold. Akane tried to keep herself from getting over worried. She'd heard that people got cold when they died. Was she dying? No. No, that was silly. She wasn't going to die from getting shot in the leg. People survived even getting shot in the lungs, or the stomach. It was just shock. That was why she was so cold. Shock.

Ranma stared ahead. His eyes were locked in the man in the shadows, but his opponent felt invisible. Ranma wasn't looking _at_ him anymore.

He was looking inside himself. He was digging down inside himself. He was looking for something powerful and strong, something no one had ever seen before.

Miroku had once told him that man had two kinds of anger. One was hot. It flared quickly, burned brightly and steadily, and then it was extinguished. The other was cold. It was so cold it burned. It had a longer life. It was calculated and dangerous and volatile, and it took years, a lifetime, to control and burn away. That was the kind of anger that made vendettas, revenge, or held grudges.

Ranma was reaching for that anger now. He knew where it was, he just had to dig deep enough to find it. Ever since Miroku had told him that story, Ranma had been pushing that cold anger further and further away. He knew where it was. He felt it often. Ranma had a lot of vendettas in his life, a lot of grudges. He knew he could never exact revenge for them, so they became colder. He felt guilty when he thought or spoke of them, and so that became colder with guilt. He wasn't allowed—he was _supposed_—to talk about his emotions and so the anger he felt never went anywhere. It just remained hidden and it continued to freeze and harden and burn.

And Akane realized that the coldness she felt was coming from Ranma.

He thought of all the bad things that had happened to him, things he regretted, things he feared, and things he loathed. He thought of when he had learned he'd been sold into working for the IBSP, of the last time he saw his mother. He thought of the anger he felt the first time he landed a punch on his father. He thought of the first time he'd seen a cat, feared it, and hated his father for making him weak.

He felt his muscles tighten and his energy level rise. He could see ice crystals beginning to form in his bangs from the sweat he'd worked up. Fine layers of ice began to run over his skin, shimmering in the light. He stepped back over Akane, needing to protect her from the ensuing blast. Epicenter was the safest place for her. She'd be protected in the eye of the storm.

Ranma didn't say anything else. Maybe it was because words had never been his forte. Maybe it was because he didn't know what to say and anything else would be cliché. Maybe he simply felt that Akane's shed blood was enough reason. Whatever the reason, he let that cold anger explode from him.

Akane lowered her head, covering her eyes. When she looked up, scrolls lay frozen against the ground. Small snowflakes floated in the air, melting on her visible breath or on her body. The ground was frozen solid. Her gun lay on the ground, frozen and useless.

The man in the shadows was gone.

Ranma collapsed by her side, breathing heavily. She thought he looked scared and worried, but she might have been wrong. Maybe she was reading too much into things. Akane was scared though. She didn't know what it was. What had Ranma done? What was it? Where had it come from?

She wanted to ask, but she didn't. She felt like it would shatter the moment.

The life of an IBSP worker. Only to one of them could a trap turn out to be romantic, with a bullet in her leg and snow falling from inside a house in the middle of summer. She didn't have the energy to smile at the thought.

Instead, she shifted her weight and threw her arms around Ranma's shoulders, leaning her head against his rapidly beating heart. He stiffened at her touch. Akane could think of several possible reasons why he stiffened, and suspected that possibly all of them were true. That he was surprised, nervous that she was touching him, or maybe even worried that he was going to hurt her. Within a moment, he relaxed. Ranma wrapped one arm over her back, holding her return, and pressed his dark head over her own.

His body wasn't cold anymore. It was warm.

They should call the IBSP. They had to get an ambulance for Akane, and Ranma was exhausted, and the… oh! Oh, the paperwork and red tape they'd have to cut through… Eventually. Eventually, they would call the Bureau. For the moment, they just sat there, enjoying the warmth and the dancing snow.

* * *

Something was bugging Miroku.

There was something incessant and annoying that was forcing him to rise from his sleep. He didn't want to go. The world of sleep was inviting and safe, almost comforting. It was the most comforting it had been in ages. He wanted to sleep, to close his eyes and rest and be safe and sound, in that smelly little hospital bed, for the first time in ages.

If only that infernal noise would stop!

His eyes opened and then shut again as he rubbed them. When he opened his eyes, freed from the tender grasp of sleep, he saw something that took his mind off of the annoying sound.

It was a lock of hair.

It was about a foot long, tied with an elastic band, the kind from a desk, not a hair band. The color was dark, almost black, but with a sheen of brown. He wrapped it around his hand. It felt silky smooth. There was no coarse edge to it. At the base, there was a bit of a wave. It smelled nice and clean, like shampoo. Not flowery, not perfumed. Just clean.

'Sango.' A small smile blossomed on his ragged face. It vanished the sharp traces of time on his gaunt, unhealthy face. 'Sango left me a lock of her hair… like a lover's token.' His smile grew even more.

The cell phone—_his_ cell phone—on the night stand beside his bed rang again. His smile disappeared and he reached for it, careful of the IV in his arm. He answered it with an annoyed growl.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Miroku."

At one time the voice would have been foreign. At one time the sound of the voice would not have made Miroku lunge up in bed, forgetting about the lock of hair in his other hand. But the voice was not unknown, and when he heard it, Miroku's heart let out a painful beat of fear.

"Suichiro!"

"Yes, Miroku. How have you been sleeping?" He didn't wait for a response before he continued. "Doesn't Sango have such beautiful hair?"

Miroku looked down at the lock of hair in his hand and he understood at once. Suichiro had her. He'd cut it off. He'd left it for him. He had escaped; somehow, Suichiro has escaped. He was baiting Miroku. Miroku knew that too. For the moment, he let himself be baited. "What have you done with Sango?"

"Relax, Miroku, relax. Sango's right here beside me. She's fast asleep still. She's beautiful when she sleeps. Like a little angel. She's safe and no harm will come to her. Not if you cooperate.

"It's very simple, Miroku," Suichiro continued. "You have what we want. We have what you love. We propose a trade."

Suichiro had been there, at the door, listening. He had to have been listening! How else would he have known to take Sango hostage?

"You'd do anything for her, wouldn't you Miroku?"

The voice was disgustingly sweet. It confirmed Miroku's thoughts. Suichiro had been eavesdropping. With a locked jaw he answered Suichiro. "You know damn well I'd do anything for Sango. Why have you taken her? It's me you want, isn't it? Let Sango go!"

"Relax, old chum. It's like I said. Sango will be fine so long as you cooperate. We want you, Miroku. Not her. Yes, that's true. We want you. We need you, in fact. But… there might have been… complications if we had kidnapped you. Sango provided us with the opportunity to make sure that you're going to be willing and compliant. It has to be willing, you see. It's in the spell. You have to willingly give up your blood, and your life. But if we hadn't taken Sango, you might have tried to screw us over. You might have… oh, say, strapped some C4 to yourself. You might have killed yourself. But you won't now, will you? You kill yourself, in any way, and Sango dies. It's that simple."

There was a moment of silence. Miroku didn't trust them. Suichiro let him finish his thought, as if he knew what was going in Miroku's mind.

"No, we won't kill Sango after it's done. I know what you're thinking, and I swear to you that we won't. Sango will be able to live and grow old and die naturally. No follower of Shabranigdo will raise a hand against her, her husband, or her descendants. We will do that. We only want you."

"So," Miroku said slowly. He was pulling the IV from his arm and slipping out of bed as he spoke. "What you're telling me is that I can die and save Sango and her whole family, and send hundreds of other people to their death and potentially start a war, or I can die to keep you from summoning Shabranigdo and Sango dies too."

"Essentially," Suichiro agreed. "I'll admit that when you put it that way, it sounds like you should kill yourself. But I'll tell you something else. Killing yourself won't stop Shabranigdo from coming back. We'll find a way. And we won't kill Sango if you do that. Not right away. I haven't enjoyed her yet, Miroku," he said. Miroku almost dropped the phone with surprise. "I bet she'd be great in bed. After that, maybe I'd let some of my friends have her to see if they agreed with me or not. And she has such pretty eyes. I bet that…"

"Shut the hell up!" Miroku snapped.

"…Would you be jealous, Miroku?"

"_I told you to shut the hell up_!"

Suichiro laughed over the phone. He was backing Miroku up into a corner and they both knew it. Miroku was struggling to find a way out.

"I'm going to need time to think about it."

"We're in no rush, Miroku. You can take the time if you want. I can't guarantee Sango's safety during that time, though. Some of my friends might get bored. I can't keep them off of her forever. Oh, and if this is some kind of tactic to try and get help, then I think you should reconsider. I was able to get out of the IBSP, Miroku. I had help. You don't know how many followers are in that building. If you're going to go to a superior, I'd rethink that, for if you do, it may be the wrong one. We'll find out about it, someway or another. And every time we hear that you told someone that I have Sango, I am going let my friends have her and they'll remove something from her body. Piece by piece, I will send her back to you, Miroku."

His knuckles were white. Every fiber in Miroku's body ached. Finally, he lowered his head. "Fine."

"I'm sorry I didn't catch that."

"I said _fine_."

With a twisted sense of perversion, Suichiro smiled into the phone. "You'll need to speak clearly…"

"You aggravating little snot, you heard what I said. I said FINE. I'll do it. Touch Sango at all and I swear to god I will come back in my next life for the sheer purpose of killing you!"

"I'm glad to see that you made the right decision. There'll be a car waiting for you downstairs in the next ten minutes. It'll be a black limo. We're sending you off in style, little Miroku. Oh, and bring Eve's necklace, would you? If you don't bring it with you, you can expect Sango's ring finger in two hours." He hung up without saying anything else.

Miroku was so mad he threw his cell phone across the room where it broke in two. He paced the room, agitated, slowly pulling on his shirt to cover up the unsightly stitches lacing together his skin. He had never felt so furious before.

He glanced back at the bed. The lock of Sango's hair was still laying there. Miroku picked up with a tenderness he didn't expect to be able to gather in his anger. It even _smelled_ like Sango. He wrapped it around his hand, holding it close. It was comforting. He spoke as if Sango could really hear him.

"I am doing the right thing, aren't I? No, I'm not… I'm putting people at risk… but…. but Sango will be safe. She can be happy. She can marry Urahara and be happy and raise fat, healthy… healthy, _beautiful_ babies with him. And they'll all be safe. Every one of them. That's what matters… isn't it?"

Miroku went upstairs and fetched the necklace.

* * *

To be continued...


	32. The Stone Table

AN: Ask yourself: what I ever kill Miroku?

Disclaimer: the ideas of hot and cold anger, which so many of you seemed to enjoy, came from _The Black Jewels Trilogy_. The name of the author currently escapes me. I liked it. Read it, but be prepared for adult situations, angst, denied fluff, and disturbing imagery. (In the first chapter, a man gets his testes eaten off by rats. It doesn't really improve after that.)

Reviews: I have the reviews saved. Maybe I will answer them. Until I do—or do not—I am writing an exam tomorrow, fighting with my boyfriend, being generally ignored by my friends here at university, being spoken to degradingly by the ones who acknowledge my existence on this earth, being accused of turning into an alcoholic, worrying that I am killing my body from not eating properly, and drowning my time unproductively in video games and fan fics rather than cleaning my room or studying for the exam because, guess what?

I am suffering from depression and at this exam time, I don't give a damn about developmental psychology because I am completely paranoid and learning about various social inhibitions, mental deficiencies, and the rising rate of suicide among teenagers does nothing to improve my current mood.

Sadly, neither does chocolate.

Note Bene: This chapter was originally drafted about three weeks ago. It's content (99 of it) is in no way an affect of my current mood.

* * *

Chapter 32: The Stone Table

Sango hurt.

It was not a stabbing pain, nor was it the dull ache of a joint or a bruise after a fight. It was a pinching, annoying pain on her wrists. Her eyes fluttered open, looking down at her hands. She was shackled. The shackles shone in the flickering candlelight. Sango recognized the shine at once and realized why it stung, and why she felt so weak and nauseous.

Silver. Like the werewolf myths from western society, shapeshifters were weak to silver. It hurt them, it burned them, and it would kill them, but not from being shackled with the substance. Sango was only half 'shifter. She'd found since she was little she could wear it in small quantities and in short periods of time. The only side effect was that she couldn't change her shape. After they had learned Sango could wear silver, Kakashi had gotten her a small silver ring to wear as a child. With it, she was prevented from changing in public, giving her the time she needed to learn how to control her shifts herself. She still had the ring, though now it only fit on her pinky, and she kept it locked safely away.

This was different. This was a lot of silver, and it had been on for a long time, and there was more of it. It wasn't just her wrists. She was shackled to something to keep her from running away. Sango looked up, her gaze foggy from the candle smoke and the remaining ether in her system.

It was a rock. She was chained to a rock table in the middle of a circle of flickering candles, more candles visible on the rock table. Wax had dripped over the edge forming a colorful edge to the otherwise drab rock.

She closed her eyes, relaxing and letting a wave of panic escape her. She was panicked that she was tied up. She was panicked because her secret weapon, her ability to change shape, had been stripped from her. She had never had it been forcefully removed from her before. Normally Sango didn't use it. A tiger in downtown Tokyo was quite noticeable. The fact that she _could_ change her shape, that there was a part in her armed with teeth, claws, and thick fur, had always made her feel more confident. If the going got tough, Sango always had her physical weapons she could rely on if her life or Akane's was in danger. Now she didn't. She felt like someone had taken away a part of herself, a part of her strength and confidence normally so carefully concealed only she could find it…

Her fingers shook and she clenched her hands to hide them. So she couldn't change. What else did she have? She lifted her hands to her jacket. Her shoulder strap was missing. She didn't have a gun. Sango bit her lip to keep what felt traitorously like a sob from escaping.

'Stop getting so scared, Sango. You still have your mind, and your body. A kick from one of your feet in the right place can do just as much damage as a claw. You still have your mind, and your mouth. And you have light to see…' She looked back up at the candles, and almost smiled. Light was comforting. Light could give her the power to look around, see her surroundings, and plan.

But the light scared her too. The fire scared her. Yes, she had one weapon left, but she hadn't used it in years. She'd been too afraid to use it. She didn't even know if she could use it. The last time she had, it had been because her life had been in danger.

She'd been a little girl. She had been shoved into a skirt and had her hair done up in pigtails that tickled her ears when she moved. She'd gone with Kakashi into a candy shop, and he had carefully explained everything, kissing her dark hair, and leaving. Sango had done just as he had wanted. She had explored the store, and had been earnestly interested in the candy. She lost herself in rows of jelly beans and gum drops and pocky; she lost herself in the bright, color full boxes and sweets with patterns to astound the eye; she lost herself in the sweet smells of chocolate and licorice and peppermint, just as Kakashi had told her.

And when a man in a pristine white suit had found her, she didn't yell and scream because he was a stranger, although school had told her she should. In school she had been told that if a man you feared came up and tried to talk to you, you should find someone you trusted and tell them. If he touched you, you should fight and scream and run away. Sango had wanted to. He had scared her. But her uncle had told her not to, and she trusted him. When the man asked if she was alone, she nodded. When he offered to help her find her uncle, she accepted his offered hand. When he led her from the store and out into the mall, she never looked back, because she knew and trusted that the IBSP members were following them.

She had been thirteen, but she was a shapeshifter. While other thirteen year olds were developing breasts or getting their period for the first time, Sango wasn't. With her wide brown eyes and the faint trace of freckles still apparent, she looked about ten. Even then she had known what she had wanted to do when she grew up. She wanted to be an IBSP member like the rest of her family. She didn't know then that she wanted to marry Urahara; that came later. She thought of this as her very first case.

The man led her to the washroom. Sango hadn't wanted to go in—it was the boy's washroom. Although curious as to how their washroom differed from the girls, she knew she shouldn't go in. It wasn't that she thought it wouldn't be proper. Sango was simply afraid of getting cooties, like the boys. But the man in the white suit had smiled at her, so sweetly and fatherly, and said that her uncle might be in there, and how could he tell which was which? She would need to go in and identify him. Sango agreed and he opened the door for her.

And then the man pulled out a cigar and began to smoke it. Sango had itched her nose, but she didn't ask him to put it out. It was that which had saved her in the end.

The man began to touch her. Sango didn't like it. He asked if she was hot, that she should take off her sweater. Sango was cold. She didn't want to take it off. He stroked her hair, commenting on how pretty it was in her pigtails. Sango hadn't liked how he had held it. Then he had kissed her—on the cheek—and Sango had had enough. Case or no case, she knew it was dangerous and she wanted to leave. Sango kicked him hard in his shin and ran to the door, but it was locked. The lock was too high up for her to reach it.

He had grabbed her and pulled her back from the door. She struck the wall and the wind had been knocked from her little body. She coughed, and looked up—and then she had tried to scream. The IBSP hunted demons. Of course he wasn't human. She had never seen this demon before. He hadn't been like Urahara or Sesshoumaru. He had been a monster. Sango had never seen the likes of him before, but she could name him: the closet monster, the Boogeyman, a dozen different names. He was the monster who took children from their beds and devoured them.

She had opened her mouth to scream, and slimy, scaly hand had covered it. The taste had made Sango gag. He had opened his mouth—a large hole with yellow, hooked teeth and a green tongue covered in boils. Sango had fought him back, and she could hear someone pounding on the door. She had been able to make out the voices. They were her uncle's and Urahara's. She fought against him, wishing she weren't wearing her silver ring so she could change and rip him piece for piece. Her hands were shaking too much for her to take off the ring.

Sango had realized she was going to die.

And then the strangest thing had happened. Sango had looked over at the sinks, and spotted the smoldering cigar sitting abandoned on the counter. She had never known how she had done it, but she had. She had somehow willed the cigar's smoke and smoldering edges to burst into flames, and they did. The man jumped back in fear. Sango had grabbed the cigar, knowing that no fire could burn her, and she had shoved it into his flesh. His clothes burst into flames and he rushed to the sink to put them out. The water hadn't worked. The fire kept spreading, devouring the white suit and the flesh under it—because Sango had wanted it too.

The door burst open, knocked off its hinges. The fire suddenly died and Kakashi ran to the man, striking him so hard he fell to his knees and stayed down. Urahara opened the stalls, looking for Sango. She had ducked into one when she had heard the door slam open. She cowered against the wall and when he had reached for him she told him not too.

'It happened again,' she had said. 'The fire-thing happened again. I hurt people. I kill people with it. I don't want to hurt you, Urahara-sama!' And Sango had burst into tears, fat tears that dripped off her cheeks, and cried so hard she couldn't see anymore.

Urahara had bent down and had touched her cheek gently, drying away a tear. His fingers were cool and soft—not like fire at all. Sango didn't protest as he picked her up the bathroom floor and handed her over to Kakashi. His body was familiar and as soon as she knew she had her dear uncle back she threw her arms around his neck and sobbed into it. His hands rubbed her back and he held her in his arms. Urahara finished handcuffing the demon, and both of them swore that if Sesshoumaru ever interfered with Sango again, they'd overthrow him rather than putting her in danger again.

And Sango had vowed to become a better agent. She would! That shell that Miroku had finally noticed around Sango, the part that always put on a brave face, became harder around Sango. That was what Sango had vowed to concentrate on building, and she had. She thought it would someday become impenetrable.

Sango didn't like using the fire. She could manipulate it, she knew she could. She could put her finger in a flame and it wouldn't burn her because she redirected the flame around her finger. But she didn't like doing it, and it rarely worked. When the senior agents had tried to train her in it, knowing that it could be dangerous if it weren't controlled, Sango had gotten many burned fingers. Why it didn't always work, Sango didn't know. All she knew was that she fought using it. She protested using it every time it did work. People hurt when she used it. People died when she used it. She wanted to reject it, every ounce of it….

She had learned that she had the ability to control fire when she was a little girl. In fact, that was when she had developed it. When the fire in her house broke out while she had been living in India, Sango had been scared. She was too young to know what to do. Unlike Miroku, who had been a year older and more cognitively developed, Sango didn't try to find her family. When she woke up, the flames were already in her room. She didn't understand that the flames were everywhere. They were simply in her room. Sango had prayed, and wished, and prayed even harder for a way to keep the fire from getting to her… and a miracle had happened.

The flames never reached her. She lay under the open window, clutching a singed doll her mother had given her, and the flames had never reached her, because Sango never wanted them to.

As she lay chained to the stone table she looked up, and tried to make the candle flicker. That was all she wanted: a flicker. What good would fire do? Use a candle flame to melt metal handcuffs? Impossible! She tried as hard as she could, but nothing happened. The candle didn't flicker at all. With a sigh, Sango sunk back down, leaning her back against the table, and thinking.

What about her cell phone?

Sango didn't even bother trying to look for it. Of course they'd take her cell phone. She needed to think of something else…

She looked around, and she realized she knew this place. She had seen it before, though not from the angle she saw it at now. It was the candlelight, the cold hard rock, and the smell that gave it away. The smell in the room was distinct: like perfumed, scented, oiled, unwashed, sweating bodies. It wasn't a room. It was a cave.

It was the cavern basement under Rezo's mansion.

"I see Sleeping Beauty is awake."

Sango whirled at the voice. She recognized; oh, she did! "Suichiro!"

He laughed, stepping between two of the candles that made the circle on the floor. He tossed a silver key in his hand. Sango's eyes darted to it, and then back to his face. He never noticed her glance. "I guess this means things are irreversible for us now. We'll never work as a couple…"

"You never even stood a chance! The slim chance you did have was lost when you tried kidnapping Miroku!" She then thought of something else. Why had she been kidnapped? They were after Miroku, weren't they? She was about to ask—but she knew the answer, deep down. Her horrified brown-gold eyes stared up at him, her hair unbound and swirling around her shoulders like a black pool. "I'm the bait for Miroku."

He smiled.

"It'll never work!" she continued. She didn't know why she was talking. It just felt good to yell at him, to take out all her frustrations through her voice. She hadn't been gagged. Her voice was the last thing she had, the last weapon she had… and then… if she made Suichiro mad enough, maybe he might come close enough for her legs to work. She'd aim for knee. She'd kick him so hard that she'd break his knee cap. "Miroku would never agree to come to save me when he knew what you were trying to…"

"He already has," Suichiro interrupted. He tossed the key again absentmindedly. He gloated, smirking triumphantly when he saw the pained expression on her face. He continued, watching her mouth soften and the angry lines on her face disappear into unfathomable sorrow. "Miroku's already on his way here, Sango. You see, we offered him the one thing he cared about more than anything. We offered him you. We offered him _your_ protection, _your _freedom, _your _chance to go out, live, and be free and safe, and he accepted it. The blood has to give itself up willingly for the ceremony to work. He has to come to the table, and be chained down, willingly."

Sango would never admit it to anyone, but when Suichiro told Sango that they had offered her to Miroku, she was worried. She worried that they had offered to give her to Miroku as a plaything, as a concubine, in return for his services. She didn't know why that thought came to mind, but as she sat there, she thought it was fitting. It was like the kind of strange fantasies and obsession a lecher like Miroku might have, she thought. So when she learned the truth, she was disheartened by more than Miroku's sacrifice or the fear that the Demon Lord would be reborn.

She was saddened by her own betrayal. Had she no trust in Miroku?

"I'll kill you all," Sango growled. Suichiro still smirked.

"No, you won't." Rezo stepped through the circle of candles. Though blind, his gaze was locked on Sango's face. His eyes opened slightly and she could see his pupils. They were silver, glazed over with cataracts. Shivers ran up and down her spine. He _was_ blind, and yet his gaze was deep. She felt like he was inspecting her. She turned her gaze away from his penetrating one to see more figures, dressed in the crimson linen robes of the cult, climbing down the stairs to join them. The only people not wearing the robes were herself, Suichiro in the same outfit he'd gone to dinner in, and Rezo in a business suit.

One felt her gaze and looked up. Sango saw pale blue eyes framed by a mass of wavy black hair. Kagome stepped on of the line and tried to run to her, calling out her name, but a hand stopped her. Inuyasha dragged her back, indicating to be quiet. His face was revealed, his white ears visible in the darkness as they clung to his head like those of a reprimanded dogs'. Kagome was saying something to him, obviously distressed, and he shook his head sadly. They slowly moved closer to the stone table. Sango's gaze trailed down to Inuyasha's other hand.

He was carrying a cooler. Sango knew what was in there.

Hospital men carrying organs carried those boxes.

She felt a lurch of nausea when she realized that Inuyasha was carrying hearts.

"I'm afraid you won't have a chance for revenge. You see, you're more than just bait. Shabranigdo needs a body as well."

"That's what Kagome is." Inuyasha and Kagome stepped through the circle. He was still holding her, gripping her arm tightly. Kagome's arm hung strangely and it took Sango a moment to realize what it was. She was scared and was passively fighting against her husband, trying to make herself dead weight. He bore it easily, however, and the only thing it did was to seem to aggravate him. She glanced down at Sango and she watched her mouth 'sorry'.

Sango looked the other way.

Rezo turned towards Inuyasha, and he then turned away as well. "Once, Kagome was going to be the body for Shabranigdo."

"But then…"

Rezo cut Inuyasha off. "But because she is human there is a large chance that she will not be able to hold the power of the Demon Lord and she would disintegrate."

Apparently Inuyasha hadn't known this before. His gold eyes were wide with surprise and Kagome let out a little gasp. She ceased fighting her husband and instead clung to him, as if afraid to be parted from him. Inuyasha's arm wrapped around her protectively, guarding her from Rezo. He set down the cooler containing the hearts, and—Sango realized with another wave of horror—would also probably hold Hitomi's eyes. The half-demon glared up at Rezo.

"We had a deal, Rezo! I help get you the hearts, I steal and keep blood for you, and you promised that you'd get Kagome turned into a half demon, like me!"

Sango had to stifle a groan. Of course! That was why he had the blood. That was why he was so protective of the room, rushing home not to first check on Kagome, but the room! That was why he kept all the pictures of Kagome there, reminding him why he was committing such atrocities. He said he loved Kagome, and he would still be young when she died… but if she was turned into a half demon… that's what Shabranigdo's real power was. Shebranigdo had the power to create half demons.

Did Kagome know? Yes, Sango though. Kagome knew. That's why she hid all the pictures of her family. She was preparing herself. She was preparing herself for the day when she went to visit her little brother, and he was suddenly older than her. She was systematically cutting herself off from them.

Inuyasha was angry. "You were going to let me put my wife in danger when you knew there was a chance that she might die?" he bellowed.

"Yes, and now I am rectifying that mistake. Sango is like you, Inuyasha. She is a half demon. Her body can endure much more than Kagome's can. By giving Sango's body to the Demon Lord as a house, we have a much greater chance of the body surviving. Shabranigdo can then turn Kagome into a half demon, and my promise will be fulfilled. You and she can live happily ever after and never hear from us again." He moved closer to the table. "But my promise to Miroku will also be fulfilled, for Sango will live as Shabranigdo, and which of us would ever hurt the Demon Lord? Hm? Which of us would hurt you then, Sango? Or any of your children? I think the Demon Lord will be quite happy with your body, my child."

Sango spat in his face. He whipped it away, glowering, and Sango could hear Kagome from behind her, making sounds of fear. Sango was glaring back at Rezo, but she didn't see it coming. As quick as flash the man had back handed her. The blow stung, but the shock from the blow was much worse. Sango cradled her red cheek.

"But you're blind… How could you even know where to hit me… you're blind!"

"My body is blind. My mind is not. I can still hear. I can still feel heat and warmth. And I can still see auras, much like your Miroku can now that his powers are expanding. When Shabranigdo is brought back, I can have my eyesight back. He can fix my body, giving me the power to see again. I can finally grasp the concept of red, or gold. I can see sunsets for the first time…"

Sango's mouth fell open in a gentle gasp. "You… you… but how did you know that his powers are growing?"

"Did you think that was something impromptu, my dear?" Rezo continued. "We have been planning this for ages, my friends and I. Once we learned that Miroku was alive, we planned and planned and thought of a variety of ways to capture him. Some, like those of my sons, were reckless." He glanced over at Suichiro, who sheepishly tossed the silver key. "Others were ingenious, and perhaps too much so. I wanted to be Miroku's favorite teacher, to introduce him bit by bit into my world and make him willing. But in the end, my lover's plan worked out the best. Perhaps too well. After we learned Miroku was receiving these visions, she switched the medicine and gave him something meant to stimulate psychic powers, not to suppress it. Miroku continued growing weaker and weaker, until eventually we could capture him easily. She didn't realize how weak it made him, or that he had to be willing. But it all worked out in the end, didn't it? Miroku is one his way here now…"

"And you?" she demanded, turning at Suichiro. Her voice was harsh and strange in her mouth, so full of anger and bitterness. "What you get out of this deal? Rezo gets his eyes, Inuyasha gets Kagome, Kagome gets Inuyasha. What do you get?"

He, surprisingly, thought a moment. "I don't know yet. My father's love for helping him. Maybe bobbles or prizes for having helped the Demon Lord return. Shabranigdo might even let me have you, but…" He paused and shuddered. Sango didn't understand why. "But I don't think I'd take him up on the offer, if I were capable of refusing. But really, what I want… is…" He didn't know what he wanted. Suichiro turned away.

Kagome and Inuyasha were still fighting. Their voices were growing and now Sango could make them out.

"But it's _Miroku!_ I like Miroku, Inuyasha. Can't it be someone else?" She paused and gave the smallest little tug on his arm. "Please? Make it be someone else!"

He was silent, and when he spoke his voice was stern. "It has to be Miroku. They need his blood."

Tears were dripping down Kagome's cheeks. "Blood? Inuyasha! Inuyasha, you listen to me! I don't know what you were doing for these people, but I want it to stop. If this is what it takes for me to be with you, then I don't want to be a half-demon! Let me die in peace and go somewhere good, without the blood of innocent people on my hands. Please, Inuyasha!"

"It's not your hands that are bloody," said Inuyasha. "It's mine. You don't have to do anything, Kagome. It's always been me. I do this stuff so that you don't have to."

"Inuyasha!" The tears were coming harder now and she was sobbing. Inuyasha was restraining himself from holding her. Sango could see it. "God… God… What have you been doing, Inuyasha?"

He was still for a long moment. It must have seemed like forever to Kagome. Then, slowly, he leaned down and opened the cooler. Inside lay the blood packets and the hearts Sango had expected. Kagome had not. Though she had heard him say the word, she thought it might have been a code or a metaphor. When she saw them, grotesque contorted figures against the white cooler walls and the piles of glittering ice cubes, the color drained from her face. She looked ready to faint.

Instead, to her credit, she leaned down and took Inuyasha's face in her hands, slowly guiding him up until he stood again. Her sobs had stopped, but she still hiccupped when she spoke. "Inuyasha, we can fix this. We'll repent, you and I. I won't stop praying. I won't stop doing good until we fix this and your soul is clean again. I won't! I swear to you that I won't, Inuyasha! Because we're the same, right? The same person? You and I? If you do something wrong and I repent, it'll count, I know it will, because we belong together, you and I. We're the same person, the same soul. I won't stop, I won't. I'll keep praying and doing charity and working and praying until… until your soul is as white as your hair, until it's as pure as snow! We can undo everything you've done for me. Please, Inuyasha? Please?"

There was such honesty in her voice, such sweet sincerity and honest devotion that even Sango could feel herself being moved. She wanted to hear Inuyasha say yes. She wanted to see that horrible cooler close and for them to run away with it, to leave, to destroy those hearts and everything in it and prevent Shabrangido from coming back.

She was sure he was going to give in; she was sure he was. Inuyasha loved Kagome. He'd do anything for her. And he'd proved it too. He had killed for her, just as Miroku was going to be killed for Sango. Because she had asked, because she had begged and cried and pleaded she was sure Inuyasha was going to give in!

But Rezo intervened. He pushed Kagome out of the circle and two figures grabbed her, holding her back. Inuyasha ran to her, snarling for the two men to let her go, and something strange happened.

The circle of candles wouldn't let him go through.

Sango could remember what Miroku had said, when he translated the spell that made the circle. It kept people from malicious intent from going in or going out. Inuyasha and Kagome had entered peacefully. The men in the robes holding Kagome had reached in because all they wanted was to pull her out, not to hurt her. Inuyasha, with his eyes suddenly blazing red and his fangs cutting his lips as she snarled and swore, could not leave, and Sango could understand why.

He wanted to kill the men holding Kagome. He had started changing into a more demon-like state because he had wanted to hurt those men so badly. The rage to do such a thing was deep; deeper than Sango had ever felt in her life. Her own power, her control over the fire, had always kept her from going that far. The fire had always protected her, so Sango never had lost control of herself as Inuyasha had done.

"I can't get to Kagome," he snarled, turning on Rezo. "But I can get to you."

Inuyasha leapt at Rezo, claws outstretched. Rezo was surprised, but he did not seem to react. Suichiro did. He gasped and dropped the key, running to help his father. Sango, her actions hidden as all attention was turned to where Kokyuo Suichiro tried to defend Rezo from a snarling man that was half-dog, reached out with her foot and pulled the key to her. She brought it as close as she could, hiding it under her leg, and then in her hands, and then into a pocket where it would be safe. She wouldn't be able to escape with all these people here. Besides, Miroku was on his way. She couldn't escape without him.

A name made Inuyasha stop. It was a faint whisper, so scared that only Sango and Inuyasha could hear it. Both looked up to see a dagger pressed against Kagome's neck.

"You _will_ do what we say," Rezo told Inuyasha. "Or I will order her killed."

Inuyasha, his eyes still red, let go of Suichiro and sat on the rock floor, sulking. His ears pulled back in a sign of defeat. He would sit and wait for Miroku to come to them, and he would kill Miroku for them so that they didn't kill Kagome.

* * *

"What do you mean they're missing?"

Ranma's voice made Akane look up drowsily in surprise. She was laying down on the backseat of the company car, Ranma's belt wound tight around her leg to prevent it from bleeding more. She slowly began pushing herself up, her arms shaking in fatigue. "They're missing? Who? Who's missing?" She didn't even know who he was talking to.

"Ferio!" Ah, Ferio. No doubt Fuu was also on her phone, listening in and adding a reassuring word or two. Those two always worked together, and in the mood Ranma was in now, it would take the two of them to calm him down. He was perfectly livid. "I told them to protect Sango! You told them to protect Miroku! Don't they listen?"

Miroku and Sango. Akane leaned her head back down. Her neck hurt from holding it up. Of course it would be those two. Who else would it be? She slowly began moving to get into the passenger seat.

"Akane's injured, Ferio. She got shot in the leg. It's not bleeding too bad no more, but she looks like shit."

"Thanks," Akane said dryly, doing up her seat belt.

"Yes, sir. I'll drop her off and then I'll go out looking for them. I don't know where to start, but I'll try. Urahara's a good tracker, and so are you. Between us… yes, sir. I understand, sir." He hung up the phone and started the car.

"Well?" Akane prompted after a few seconds had passed. "What did Ferio say?"

Ranma's hands were gripping the steering wheel tightly. He voice was just as tense. "He said I'm not to help them look. He said he was going to go and find Sesshoumaru right away and they would have all the adult agents right away out and looking for them. He said that we weren't on the case no more. He said we were too young." He put the car into drive and started heading back to the IBSP. "He's trying to protect us."

"Yes," Akane agreed.

"I don't want to be protected! I can take care of myself! I'm going to take you to the hospital, and then I'm going out…"

"No you aren't."

"You can't stop me from going out, Akane!" He said her name the way she hated to hear it: with each syllable stressed and the name drawn out so it sounded ridiculous. He glanced over at her to see if she was about to hit him, as she normally would have been after such a comment. She was glaring at him, but she wasn't angry with him. She was being firm and assertive and… and it was kind of cute. She had such round cheeks and such bright eyes the glare wasn't very impressive. "What?"

"My partner is out there too, Ranma, not just yours. I'm not going to the hospital. Look, it stopped bleeding, right? I just need a bit of a rest. Then I'll be fine. I'm not going to lay down while my best friend is in trouble. You're the same way. I think that might be why we like each other. So you can bring me to the hospital Ranma, but I'll fight you the whole way and you'll have to tie me to the bed to make me stay while Sango and Miroku are in danger."

"We still don't…" He had conceded immediately. It was Akane's choice, and he wasn't about to lose the respect he felt between them by tying her down to a hospital bed. He had stopped because he had glanced at the cell phone laying in his lap. He handed it to Akane.

"Urahara put tracking devices in us, remember? Those damn needles? They're tracking devices! We can follow Sango and Miroku no matter where they are! Figure out how to use the GPS, will you? Give me the directions as I drive. We're going to be there in no time!"

They wouldn't be there in no time. When Akane figured out how to access the GPS system Urahara had configured into their phones, she realized what the trap had really been about. It hadn't been to kill Ranma and Akane; that was a benefit. They were an hour away from where Miroku and Sango were being held against their wills. No one knew how long it had been since they had been missing. The monitors didn't detect heart beat signals. She couldn't even be sure that they were still alive.

They might already be dead.

* * *

Sesshoumaru stepped out of his office, holding Rin's hand. He briefly let go of it when he locked the door, and then took it again. Rin looked up at him with wide, nervous eyes and he withheld a sigh. "Rin," he stated, bending down and scooping her up into his arms where she couldn't run away or stare at him so disconcertingly. "You're a big girl. You've been with me for how many weeks? You know I'm not going to hurt you?"

She nodded childishly, toying with her bottom lip. Sesshoumaru didn't understand Rin. He had never been good with children, and perhaps because of it, they had never much liked him. Rin did. She trusted him, declaring it in her own silent way, and he could speak to her in an adult way most adults wouldn't have used with a child Rin's age.

"If you trust me and you know I'm not going to hurt you, then you needn't be afraid of the doctor, isn't that correct?" She nodded, but she didn't look as if she accepted his promise of safety. He pressed the elevator button to go down to the hospital level. "What is it that you're afraid of Rin? I'm not going to leave the room. I promise I won't. We just want to get you looked at, make sure you're not sick and that you're recovering splendidly."

The slightest of smiles touched his golden eyes as he looked at the girl leaning against her shoulder. Her cheeks were pink and chubby and she looked shy as he held her. "…though no doubt they'll tell me to cut back on your sweets. What is it Rin?"

He didn't know, most of the time, how Rin was able to communicate. She never spoke a word, and she hadn't the patience to sit down and write out everything she wanted to say. Even if Rin had the patience, Sesshoumaru didn't. He wouldn't engage in demeaning conversations with a piece of paper and encourage her foolishness. But, as she didn't speak and she didn't write, he had to put up with it, and Rin still somehow made herself understood. She didn't mime. Some signals were easy enough. She lifted her hand to his when she needed a reassuring touch, and a pull on his pants when he sat at his desk was a silent order to be picked up and cuddled. He picked her up then and set her on his knee, but he did not cuddle.

How she made him understand that she was afraid needles, he didn't know. Her hand gently stroked his cheek, making him look at her, and he understood. Her chubby hand laid against his cheek, warm and a little sticky, just like Rin. Sesshoumaru stroked her hair. She childishly played with his in return.

"I promise you Rin, you won't be given a needle. If they decide that you do need a needle, it's because that will make you healthier. What we'll do then…" He sighed, trying to think of a way to be practical and to give in to Rin. "What we will do is we will make another appointment. I'm due for another shot soon myself, you know. We'll schedule the two together. You can get yours first, and then I will get mine, and afterwards we'll go out for ice cream. How does that sound?"

Rin smiled with delight at the promise of ice cream and threw her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek. Sesshoumaru, strangely, blushed.

"Stop that, Rin… Women. You're far too sentimental."

Rin simply smiled.

They rode the elevator and walked to their examination room without talking. When Rin had first arrived at the IBSP, the sight of Sesshoumaru holding Rin's hand as they walked down the hall was a sight not to be missed. It was the gossip of the whole building. Some people even speculated in hushed voices that though Rin bore no resemblance to him, it must be his child out of wedlock. Why else would he keep her around but if honor dictated it? However, eventually the interest had died down and the rumors had left. Now the sight of Sesshoumaru—pale, tall, stately and seeming to glow with moonlight—carrying a child on his shoulder who smiled and revealed a missing front tooth was common. She smiled as if she were on top of the world, and Sesshoumaru acted as if he wasn't aware the child was even there.

They walked into the examination room. Sesshoumaru sat in the chair next to the doctor's desk. Rin, who already had an inkling of what instruments of torture they kept in the drawers and cupboards in the room, sat cross-legged on the floor next to him and tried to look just as imperial.

Sesshoumaru heard first steps coming down the hall. He reached down and stroked Rin's hair. "The doctor will be here any second, Rin. Then we'll be out of here before you even know it."

Then the strangest thing happened. He heard two sets of footsteps coming down the hallway. Both, he could tell from the gait and the sound of the high-heels striking the tiled floor, were female. They stopped just outside the ajar door of their room. He could see their shoes, though not the bodies. Their scent struck him before they spoke. Amy and Kagura.

"Hello, Kagura. On your way out, are you?" asked Amy.

"Yeah. My shift is over and I'm beat. I wish I could go home, but I can't. Some friends have asked me to come over to help them unpack into their new apartment," she sighed.

As soon as she heard that voice, Rin shot up. Her eyes were so wide that Sesshoumaru could see white all around them. Her breath and heart froze for a moment, and then pounded uncontrollably. She looked ready to run. She looked frightened—terrified. Sesshoumaru's nose stung. He could smell urine. He looked down to see that Rin's pants were wet.

He didn't need an explanation. He knew. She had heard, Rin. She had heard the voices of the people who had killed her mother. She was hearing them now. That was the only explanation. What other voice could have made Rin so scared she would pee herself? The only problem was, which voice was it?

He shoed Rin behind the chair and he opened the door wider. He was about to ask them both to step in and hold them both, but then he knew. Amy was smiling, a greeting already out her mouth. Kagura was staring passed him, to the stains on the floor and the head of dark hair peeking out from around the chair. And she looked just as terrified as her glance moved from the floor, to Rin, and then to Sesshoumaru's golden eyes.

"Kagura… I think we need to talk."

* * *

They readied the room. Rope was secured and wound around hoops carved into the table. Books were spread out so that they could be read and studied from the table. Sango watched it all, waiting for her time. Suichiro never noticed that the key was missing, and Sango thanked every kind deity she could think of for the blessing. Kagome was still being held, always just out of reach of the circle so that Inuyasha could see her. Inuyasha had not calmed down. His eyes were still red and his lips were darker from the cuts his fangs left on them.

"How do you get like that?" she asked during a lull in the activity. He looked over at her. "How do you do that? I can become a human. I can become a cat. I have a half-and half shape where I have the weapons of a cat and the body of a human, but I don't have anything like that. How do you find it? Is it just for males? Is it just for dogs?"

Inuyasha shrugged half heartedly. "I don't know. I just get like this when I get mad. Don't you ever get mad?" Sango nodded. "How do you release your anger?"

"I hit something."

He chuckled. "You're not mad enough, then. Imagine yourself at your most furious. Times that by five. Imagine you're so mad that your blood is boiling and it burns. Imagine your whole body hurts because you're mad. Imagine yourself as a monster to scare your enemies. Imagine yourself as something primal, like water or fire. Not just normal water or fire, but something powerful, like a hurricane or a forest fire, something uncontrollable and unstoppable, something dangerous and deadly. Imagine yourself like that and eventually you'll find it."

Sango turned away. She didn't think she'd ever get it. She had been mad before. She had something primal inside her, something that burned when she was mad, and she didn't like it. It scared her.

Throughout the whole setting up time, there had been voices. People were talking: instructions, conversations, condolences, laughter, zealous whispers of the Demon Lord's name and eager, delighted lists of the wishes he would fulfill. It all stopped. It didn't stop at once. It wasn't sudden. It stopped slowly. First it started at the stairs and then it moved through the crowds, deep into the recesses of the cavern. Sango twisted her body to see around the corner of the table to see what had caused it. Standing at the bottom of the stairs was Miroku.

He was sweating and breathing hard, but he was standing on his own power. Some of his bangs clung stubbornly to his forehead, while others seemed to float around him. His hair was disheveled from sleeping. His shirt had been buttoned improperly; she didn't think he noticed. Even from across the cavernous room Sango could see that his eyes were a faithful and steady deep blue. His skin looked pale and sickly. He leaned on the wall of the stairwell, and reached into his pocket. He pulled something out and held it in his hand, letting it drop. From between his fingers dangled a choker, weighted down at the bottom by a large piece of rose quartz.

"I have it."

She lost what was happening as she closed her eyes. She knew what was contained in that rock. Urahara had told her that to confine Shabranigdo they had stripped him of his powers and they had hidden it. Sango hadn't told that part to Miroku. She could see it now. They had given the necklace to a family to hide it. It had been passed down as an heirloom generation after generation, until, it had landed in the hands of a seer who had foreseen her own potential demise. Desperate to keep the secret of the necklace she had sent it to her only blood relative, her cousin. And thus Hitomi had sent the choker to Eve. Eve's killers, not realizing what it was, perhaps not even thinking a girl with no apparent psychic power could carry Shabranigdo's power, had ignored it.

And now Miroku had brought it to them.

She stifled a groan. Opening her eyes, she peered around the corner again to see what was happening. Two acolytes were taking off Miroku's shirt for him, revealing a smooth chest tarnished with half-healed wounds from surgery. His arms were muscled and smooth; she followed down the curve of the muscle to his white-knuckled hands, still holding the jewel. A female acolyte washed his chest for him. Her movements were suggestive and loving. Sango bit her bottom lip, glaring, but Miroku didn't notice. He was too tired to notice.

He climbed aboard the table and Suichiro lashed him down. His vision had been wrong. It wasn't just his hands that were tied down, but his ankles, legs, and shoulders. They wanted to keep him from struggling or moving about. Suichiro wasn't gloating anymore. He looked almost apologetic. Miroku shot up, wheezing, when he saw Suichiro picking up the rope to bind him. "Wait! Sango! You promised to let her go!"

Suichiro did look apologetic. Rezo answered. Miroku paled when he saw his professor. Though he had seen the mansion, deep down he had hoped that Rezo was not involved in the business of summoning Shabranigdo.

"She will not be released," he said. "She will serve as a host for our Lord."

"What!" Miroku lunged for Rezo. People held him back. He yelled at Rezo. It made Sango scared. She had never heard him yell before, or cuss as strongly as he was then. If Miroku was a half-demon, she was sure he would have reached that stage where he looked frightening and powerful, just as Inuyasha had. She cringed, hiding. She didn't want to see Miroku like that. Miroku was fierce and protective, and even sometimes defiant, yes, but never like that. He was subtle and quiet about it. She didn't want to see that. Finally, wheezing, he was forced back down to the cold stone table and tied to it. Sango's ears burned as she heard Miroku speak. "I'm sorry, Sango."

Chained to the side of the stone table, Sango reached up and touched his hand. It was cold. Slowly, his fingers curled around her hand. She didn't know what to say, but touching him was enough for him to know he was forgiven.

"You're there?"

With a smile she squeezed his hand back. "I'm always there whenever you wake up, Miroku."

Rezo motioned for Inuyasha. The surgeon walked up to the table. His eyes were still red, though as he looked down at Miroku, the color faded. He opened his mouth as if to speak, and then closed it. There were no words capable of asking forgiveness for the atrocity he was about to commit… again. He looked at the book laying beside Miroku on the table. The blood was the key to resurrecting Shabranigdo, and it needed to be let out in a proper way. He picked up the scalpel.

Miroku closed his eyes. Sango's hand was reassuring, but he didn't want her to feel what he was going through. He let it go, and he felt the first cut. It burned.

Rezo began reciting the spell.

_Cum saguin, nos te vocamos. Saguin te operatem est. Nos te vocamos…_

Sango looked down at her pocket. She couldn't risk it… could she? Rezo and Suichiro could both see her; so could the men and women greedily surrounding the circle as they watched Inuyasha make the incisions. If she was Miroku's last chance, then she had to wait until she couldn't get caught. If she tried anything too soon, then both of them would die. She had to wait. She had to force herself to wait until the timing was perfect… she lifted her hands to her ears, trying to cut out the sound of the scalpel sawing through the muscles in various places on his body. She wanted to scream, but she shoved those feelings down deep. Miroku was a psychic. She didn't want to make it worse for him to know that as he was tortured, she was too. She tried to think of everything happy in her life, for him. She thought of her first ice cream. She thought of…

_Miroku_. She thought of seeing him, thinking he looked like a dashing pirate, and laughing with him, and teasing him. She thought of his sweet little kisses and the way his eyes flashed from grey to blue with his own emotions. She thought of him hunched studiously over a book, and looking dangerous with a weapon, and those ridiculous dinosaur sheets he had on his bed. God, she loved those sheets!

Sango realized something, as she lay her thoughts out on the open for Miroku to see, had he dared look. Whenever she had been happy since she had met Miroku, she had been happy because he had been there with her.

The knife cut more. The knife cut deeper. Miroku wanted to scream, but he couldn't. He wanted to save his energy. He still had a goodbye to make, and he still had hoped. He hoped that something would keep that knife from coming down again. He hoped he would be able to make it out alive. He wouldn't give his enemies the satisfaction. Miroku had been made. Miroku had been made to love, and to cherish others, to value human life, to believe in the best of men… he would show them all what the best of man was. He'd be brave, and loyal, and… and maybe, as the rage and the blood left him, he might forgive them, too.

He could feel his body getting weaker and weaker. His blood ran down his chest. He could feel it pooling beneath his back. It wasn't just a line down his chest. It was his chest, his arms, his pectorals, and the top of his hips. There were crosses, and circles, and strange wavy lines. It burned. It hurt. It bled. It bled so much that Miroku thought he could not have any more left in him, and yet more came.

There was little hope left in him now. He had lost so much blood. How could he ever live? He could no longer feel his body. He could see Inuyasha's hands on him. He could see his blood sliding over his chest, to the stone table, and trickling over the edge. He could feel the pain, but it seemed far away. It wasn't even a dull ache anymore. It was just… there. He knew he was dying. Miroku licked his lips, and put all his strength into his voice. It was raw and weak, but Sango, he knew, could hear it.

God, he loved her.

"Sango?"

"Yes?" His voice was weak. She had to strain to hear it. Sango lifted her face to hear him better. Blood collecting around the rim of the stone table fell on her face, rolling over her cheeks and lips like tears.

"You'll get through this. You'll find a way. I know you will, because you're Sango. When you do wed, marry Urahara. He makes you smile, and you're beautiful when you smile. When you have a girl, name her after my mother, and yours. Name her after our mothers. That way, a part of me will live on, and I'll live on through you."

She felt tears sting her eyes. She squeezed them away. She wished to reach up and touch him, but she couldn't. She was too busy fumbling, twisting her body to try and unlock her cuffs before it was too late. Her hands were shaking, making it difficult. "I will, Miroku."

He sighed. "Thank you."

And thus Miroku perished.

* * *

A note on the spell: in very bad Latin, it says 'in blood, we call you. Blood is the key, yadda, yadda…' Yeah, those old scrolls didn't have much imagination when it came to spells. 


	33. The Possessions

Chapter 33: The Possessions

Miroku was sure he was dying. His world was slowly filling with darkness. Things getting blurry, the color fading away. Even his wounds didn't hurt so much. He was aware they were there, but, they didn'thurt. Sounds felt like they were far away, but he could still hear Rezo chanting. He smelled something strange. The last thing he saw was his professor holding up a heart, and burning it. He closed his eyes blissfully, glad that he didn't have to see anymore. The darkness consumed him, and his thoughts vanished into unconsciousness.

* * *

Sango's stomach threatened to recoil when she saw what Rezo was doing. She kept her eyes down, locked on the key she struggled to use. Everyone was so riveted on Rezo and Inuyasha, they paid her no attention. Finally, the lockclicked, and the shackles fell open. They clattered on the ground, and people heard them. Suichiro put his hand to a pocket, scarcely believing the key was gone. Rezo roared for someone to grab her, but of course they couldn't. People ran at the circle, but because they were trying to hurt Sango, the magic of the circle wouldn't let them enter.

Inuyasha, Miroku, Rezo, and Suichiro were locked in with a tiger.

She changed as soon as she stood up, stretching to her full height. Her form changed, becoming heavier and taller. Sharp teeth dropped from her upper jaw and her ears began protruding. Her eyes steadily turned gold and waves of fur rippled along her body. She had no time to concentrate on changing her clothes with her shape. They ripped and fell to ground. Her tail lashed out behind her and she roared in triumph. She pounced on Suichiro, planning on ripping him from end to end, but stopped.

He had grabbed a scalpel from the stone table to use to defend himself. Though small, it was sharp, and a pounce would expose the vital areas of her throat and her stomach. Instead she crouched and approached slowly. Like a cat toying with a mouse she reached out and slashed. He was too slow to catch her. Her nails ripped his jeans and his skin. He cried out and she lashed out again. Rezo, between recitations, yelled at her to stop, threatened her, and then gave up, reciting faster than ever. Sango didn't understand why he was reciting instead of saving his son.

Suichiro was now on his back, unable to stand from the wounds in his leg. She lifted her paw to swipe his arm, and to keep swiping until he dropped his weapon. Then he would be helpless.

And… suddenly, as Rezo's voice reached screaming proportions, she didn't want to do it anymore. Something inside of her was telling her not to do it. She didn't want to hurt Suichiro. He was her servant. He was a good follower, and could prove useful again in the future. He was power-hungry, ruthless, and could be manipulated through his fear. He was also good-looking. It might be fun to entertain him with this new, female body…

Female body? This was no female body! This was a cat! She stood up, reverting back to her human shape, and sighed with relief. This was the form she preferred. She flexed her hands. They were callused, but well cared for: slender, moisturized, and strong. They were the hands of an aristocrat. She looked down at her body. It was muscular. Perhaps not the most flattering of body shapes, but it was also strong and hearty. It was the well-balanced, trained body of a fighter. She could have done much worse. She could have gotten someone slovenly. She preferred this body. She ran her hands along it, feeling the cream-toned skin with an artist's approval.

Yes, fine limbs. Yes, fine hips. Yes, a derriere of which she could be proud. Yes, to the long, slender neck that spoke of grace. Yes to the long eyelashes and the high cheekbones, and oh, yes, to the softness, the fullness of the lips. Her hands touched her breasts. Yes, as well, to the breasts; they were soft and supported with youth and she could feel them responding to her caresses as she explored this new body.

She could feel revulsion coming from the depths of her mind. Looking inwards, she held it in her mind gently, wishing to hear those thoughts, for she had much to learn about this new body.

_Don't do that! Don't do that! Stop it! Stop touching me!_

_Why_, she replied, _I am touching myself._

_No, you're not! You're touching me! Stop it! Stop it!_

_Sango… you are called Sango, are you not?_

_I am. I am Sango._

_I am Shabranigdo. Once, you were Sango. Once, I was Shabranigdo. Now I am Sango. You are nothing more, Firefly._

_I am Sango!_

_No, you are Firefly. You are like a firefly. You were once brilliant and beautiful. Now you are not, for you are nothing. You are my toy, my firefly in a jar. I can do with you as I please, and you have just as short as a lifespan. You are a firefly to me, and so I shall rename you. You shall henceforth by Firefly._

_Leave me alone!_

_I shall do no such thing, Firefly._

She stopped touching herself. She could have time to properly explore the body later, in private. Although she had no problem with the eyes affixed upon her, she wished privacy to touch and to torture Firefly. Firefly could feel everything Sango could. She could feel the hand clasped along her throat as she caressed her skin, as well as the skin of her neck as it was touched.

She walked instead to Miroku's dying body. Blood coated his chest. She leaned over him, brushing his hair. Sango heard Firefly sob when those dark, silky locks slipped between her fingers. She ran her fingers down the lines of his face.

_It is a pity his body is dying. He reminds me so much of his ancestor. I would have loved to have kissed him._

_You leave Miroku alone!_

_Have you kissed him? Yes, I can read your thoughts. They are spread out before me like a book to read. He has kissed you. You liked it. You thought about doing it again. Did you dream about him? Yes, you did. Such boring dreams you have. They lack imagination. I would have liked to have kissed him. I would have liked to explore his body, to learn him. He is a beautiful man, even now. Look at his blood. You can see it. I know you can. You see everything I see. His blood is beautiful. It has set me free, and it has given you to me, Firefly. Do you know what I need to live, Firefly?_

Firefly sobbed. _Don't. Oh, please, please don't._ Urahara had told her. Firefly knew what Shabranigdo needed to leave. Life. He drank life, in whatever form he could: souls, sexual energy, birthing energy, dying energy… and blood.

Sango leaned down her graceful neck. The dark hair that Miroku had always loved became tangled and matted as it brushed Miroku's blood. She opened her mouth and licked delicately at the blood pooling from Miroku's wounds. The blood lingered on her tongue, giving Sango time to taste, before she swallowed with a satisfied purr.

Firefly sobbed again, but this one was angry. _Leave Miroku alone…_

_You love him, didn't you? That's why it bothers you so much… what did you want him to do, Firefly? What did you want him to do in your deepest, sweetest desires? Show me the part of you that you keep hidden from yourself. _Sango dug through Firefly's memories as she gazed down at Miroku's body. The feeling of that powerful, alien mind tearing through her own was painful. She sobbed with each tear and touch. _I can tell you what I would do to him… ah… ah…_ She laughed in wild ecstasy. _A virgin! Rezo has found me a virgin body? Oh, how great his rewards shall be once the spell is finished. Never before have I been able to enjoy a virgin body before._

_Stop it! Stop laughing at me! _

_Ah, there it is. I see it now. Oh, Firefly. How you would have hated yourself if you saw what I can see in you! Such dreams—such beautiful wishes, and yet you hated yourself for them._ She heard Firefly sob and she smiled. _You didn't just want him to kiss you. You wanted him to touch you. You wanted him to be intimate with you. You wanted to have sex with him. You wanted him to be your first._

_Those aren't meant for you to see!_ Firefly protested. She knew that those dreams were true, and she couldn't bear to hear them spoken from that strange, invading voice in her mind.

_How cold you are! Frigid. Boys would describe you as frigid. Have you no sense of passion, Firefly? You wanted him to be your first because you knew that he would make it enjoyable for you. Yes, you saw the tenderness in him. He certainly didn't hide it, did he? You saw the work and the tenderness he put into things and you longed for him to show that to you. Sex wouldn't be scary with him. He could show you how to do it. Logic! Reason! You reasoned him into your bed. You couldn't even… oh, oh, Firefly! There's the passion! _

_Get away from that! _Firefly roared. Sango laughed.

It hurt worse than she could ever have imagined. It had reached down even lower into the thoughts and dreams Firefly could not admit to herself. As Sango toyed with those dreams, laying them brutally out so that Firefly could feel Miroku's hands on her skin and his breath over his lips, Sango laughed at Firefly's pain. She didn't want to see it. She hated having all her precious dreams and wishes flung at her like they were garbage, being turned against her like they were weapons. That's not what they were supposed to be.

_Such passion! Such fire—fire and energy as I have never seen before. Did you ever admit these things to yourself? Before I came, could you have perceived them? Yes, you wanted him. You wanted him to want you. You wanted him to love you, to make love to you, to bite and own and rule as the male tiger does. You wanted to bite back, to groom him. You wanted to groom him! How simple and pleasant… and how animalistic. These are your true passions. These are things you truly feel. _

Sango shoved them at Firefly, forcing her to look at them. This one was a memory Firefly had pushed away, for it had been disconcerting. It had been before the date with Suichiro. Firefly had walked down the stairs and had seen Miroku. He had felt her presence and looked up—and the sight had taken Firefly's mind away.

Firefly could not recall ever having been moved by something so common. It was an expression, nothing else. There were no words or lyrics or touches. It was just a face. But what a face! Miroku looked up at her and defied her. He challenged her. He was, quite possible for the first time, being possessive, and Firefly had found it exhilarating.

He was claiming her. He was declaring he was going to protect her. He was strong, he was a fighter, and he'd fight her if need be. That took strength. She suddenly found herself longing for more of that. She wished that Miroku would stand up, and take her in his arms, and kiss her. She wished he would kiss her mouth, her chin, and her neck. And bite her. She wished he would take her throat between his teeth and hold her still… and that she would let him.

It was not a sign of dominance. It was not a sign of submission. It was a sign of trust. That Firefly, her throat exposed, would let the jaws of a fellow predator take them into his mouth, and not kill her. It was the ultimate sign of trust. She wished he would do that. She wanted him to do that. She wanted her to trust him. She wanted him to be more assertive, to take the initiative, to try, for once, to make an advance on her. He never had. Not ever, not seriously. Firefly had taken them. Miroku, his heart exposed, or his childhood exposed, had taken a risk and exposed himself and had been accepted. He trusted her.

But she didn't trust him.

_Poor Firefly._

_Stop that._

_Now he's dying. You'll never know, will you? You'll never have another kiss from him; you'll never feel him hold you; you'll never be able to give yourself up to him; you'll never know what it's like to have someone who loves you connected with you, to feel your life and your love flowing back and forth. _

_Shut up!_

_He's dying._

_Shut _up

_He's dying, Firefly._

_Get out of my head!_

_He's dying, Firefly, and it's all because he loved you._

_I said: get OUT!_

She screamed it as loudly as she could. She screamed it so loud Shabranigdo's control broke for a second and she regained her true voice. Sango, her voice filled with pain, fear, and rage, screamed as loudly and as forcefully as she could. She felt the alien presence leave her, as if it evaporated. She screamed, loud and hard, and Miroku heard her, just as he had in his visions.

What he had not expected, was for the fire to be released. It was. Sango, terrified and furious, felt some part of her mind slam open and the fire came rushing out. Her whole body burned, as Inuyasha said it would, but she didn't feel it. It was good. The power was good. Sango whirled on the candles. People screamed when they saw her. Suichiro, laying on the ground, was screaming.

Sango was half tiger and half human. It was the shape most natural to her. Her naked body was covered in blood, but it was not hers. It was Miroku's. Her hair lashed about, like a mass of black asps. Her tail swished back and forth furiously. Her eyes were gold, then green, then hazel, and gold again, changing with each subtle change of lighting.

She gestured to the candles, feeling furious, and the candles suddenly blazed with the intensity of furnaces. People screamed in surprise and back up, shielding their faces from the inferno. Ruthless, Sango sent the fire after them, nipping on their heels like dogs.

But the important thing was Miroku. She had to save Miroku. Inuyasha stood by him, the bloody scalpel raised. He was making no move to stop her, but he wasn't stopping the ceremony either. They still had Kagome.

"Sango! Sango!" She turned to the sound and saw Kagome through the flames. She was struggling against the people holding her back. A wound was in her shoulder from the knife one of them held, but she didn't seem to register it. "Sango! He's finishing the ceremony! Get out! You have to get out! If you don't, Shabranigdo will take you! Get out of the circle!"

In perhaps the bravest thing Kagome ever did in her life, she managed to get away from the acolytes, and she ran for the wall of flames. Heedless of the blinding light or the intense heat, she kicked at the wall, and knocked over one of the candles. A gap appeared in the flames. Kagome had made a doorway out of the magic circle. In her furious state Sango, like Inuyasha before her, would have been trapped by the magic of the circle. Thanks to Kagome, she could escape.

She bolted from the circle, and none too soon. She felt like a hand had reached out towards her and raked her back before she made it through the circle. The acolytes attacked her, trying to force her back in the circle. They had no weapons, but they had numbers. They were also human.

In her furious state, Sango didn't care.

She fought. She fought them with everything she had: with tooth, and claw, and fire. When punches came she snarled and ducked under them, slashing at unprotected legs. Hot blood splashed against her face, catching in her whiskers, and people screamed. They weren't screaming enough. They had hurt Miroku. They had killed Eve. They had tried to kill Hitomi.

They weren't screaming nearly enough.

One of them rushed her while she was vulnerable, grappling with another man. Sango flung him off, sending him crashing into the wall of flame. He flew through it, screaming. She met the one coming at him and sprang on him. Grabbing him by the shoulders, she sunk her teeth into his neck.

The others saw it and began running.

* * *

As soon as Inuyasha saw that Kagome was out of the grip of the acolytes he dropped the scalpel and dove for her. She slowly sank to the ground, holding her head, but he caught her before he struck ground.

"Kagome! Kagome!"

He could already piece together what had happened. She must have passed out from the heat of the flames. Inuyasha was sweating from the intensity, and he was half demon. It had been too much for Kagome's body.

Picking her up in his arms, the sound of the flames covered up Rezo's approaching footsteps. His hand slammed down on Inuyasha's shoulder and he managed to spin the surprised man around.

"Finish the spell!" Rezo snarled. His eyes were open in the light of the flame wall. Inuyasha found it unnerving. "Finish the spell! Miroku…"

"No!" He clutched Kagome closer to his chest. "I won't finish it! Fuck you, Rezo! Finish it your goddamn yourself!"

Rezo stepped closer and Inuyasha backed up. He glanced down to see that Rezo was holding the bloody scalpel he had left by Miroku. He bared his teeth at the blind man, knowing full well that Rezo could pick up on the anger and the power swirling around Inuyasha. The wall of fire behind the silver-haired man even began wavering, rippling like water as Inuyasha's chi met it.

"You owe me. Finish that spell! I can't finish it myself!"

"Just kill him, Rezo! Isn't that all the spell needs?" Inuyasha could feel Kagome stirring in his arms.

Rezo's hand with the knife relaxed slightly. He sighed, holding out a peaceful hand to Inuyasha. "It's not that simple, Inuyasha," he tried to explain. "Shabranigdo needs blood to drink to regain his strength. He can survive in this world, yes, but he'll always exist as a half spirit unless Miroku dies. He has to be the one to do it, though. Miroku's life is forfeit to Shabranigdo, no one else. Shabranigdo…"

"I don't care about Shabranigdo!" Inuyasha snapped.

"Inuyasha…"

The half demon looked down at the woman in his arms. Kagome had reawakened and looked up at him weakly. God, his wife was beautiful. She had such wide blue eyes, with soft pink lips and flushed cheeks. She looked up at him, looking so crushed and heartbroken… He sighed with longing for the beautiful creature he held. She held out her hand, reaching for Rezo pleadingly. Inuyasha had eyes only for his wife… and suddenly, she reached for him as if to kiss him and there was a stabbing pain across his throat. Blood sprayed into the air, turned golden from the reflection of fire. They landed on Kagome's face and she fell from his arms. Rezo caught Kagome as she fell. Inuyasha landed on the floor, reaching for his throat and feeling blood spray from his neck. Everything seemed to be in a haze.

Kagome steadied herself wearily, glaring down at Inuyasha. Even as she spoke, she seemed tired and regal. Her delicate fingers wiped the blood from her face and she lickedit clean of her hands. "I don't reward those who don't follow me in complete sincerity. Lay there and die, Inuyasha. Rezo," she said, turning to him, "you have followed me honestly. I give you your reward." She leaned down and touched Inuyasha's eyes. He didn't stop her. He couldn't. It was his Kagome. It was his beautiful, gentle Kagome, with the wide blue eyes and the sweet pink lips. He watched her until his eyesight became dark. "I will take Inuyasha's sight, and give it to you, Rezo."

Inuyasha's world went blind. Rezo's became golden, golden from the fire and the light reflected from Kagome's sweet face. The tall man gasped with surprise when he saw Kagome. He reached out to touch her cheek and she smiled at him. "My God… you're beautiful…."

"I am, aren't I? This body is not as good as Sango's, but it was full of untapped power. Power I can use to heal. Yes, you, Suichiro." She knelt next to the crying, injured man. He wasn't crying anymore. He was staring up at her, completely awe-struck by the way the firelight made her hair shimmer around her like mica. "You may have told them about me, but you also brought me Miroku. You shall be rewarded."

She reached her hands to his body. There was a flash of light and the wound was healed. Kagome swayed on her feet and Rezo rushed to steady her. She smiled at him gratefully. "Food. I require food. She is fighting me. I can hear her sobbing."

Rezo nodded and fetched one of the containers of blood. He smiled as he gave it to her. "It's Eve's."

"Eve?"

"The witch who carried your power. I nearly forgot…" Rezo hurried to Miroku's body and unwound the locket from Miroku's still hand. He gleefully returned it to Kagome, kneeling as he held it up for her. "For you, my lady."

She picked up the locket, sipping at the blood as if it were juice. At the first taste she smiled and guzzled it before inspecting the rock. She threw the rock to the ground and stomped one it once with her foot. The rock crumbled and Kagome shuddered with pleasure. The two men with her were suddenly struck by not just how beautiful Kagome was, but how perfect she was. She was beyond beautiful. She batted her long eyelashes, lifting her hand to her mouth and continuing to lick Inuyasha's blood from her fingernails. On the ground, Suichiro shuddered as he watched that long pink tongue snake up her finger and Kagome's pleasure at the sensation.

"Give me more blood."

"My lady, I would, but shouldn't we escape while we have the chance? If Sango returns…"

Kagome looked up at Rezo sharply. "You dare defy me?" He shrank back and she advanced on him. "Let her come back! Let her come back into the circle! This body may have power, yes, but it is old and weak. I want that body back! I want that body back! I can feel this one dying around me already! Are you aware of the gift you had given me Rezo, Suichiro? I had the perfect body, and now I must be content with this one until I can find Firefly again. Let her come back! So long as the ceremony is finished, I can change bodies as I please! I can, Rezo! Would you like to know what it's like to be my host? I can use your body, if you wish. Or your son's. I can use Suichiro's body, Rezo. Would you like that?"

He was shaking with fear. "My lady, my lord," he stumbled.

"You're right," she sighed. She brushed her hair back from her face. "We should retreat now. Firefly is having her blood lust. Let her have it. It would cost me energy I do not have to try and dominate her in this state, and I have no wish for a direct confrontation. She would not stop fighting unless something killed her. I do not wish to cause that precious body injury. I will possess it one day, Rezo."

"What about Miroku?" asked Suichiro. He was staring at the still body on the table.

She took a long, hard look at it. Slowly she walked up to and gently lapped once at his chest. She sighed with delight at the taste of his blood. "He's not dead yet. I will not kill him, either. Let him live. So long as he lives, I can hide and change bodies as I desire. It has a power with which I am contented to live." She stroked his hair gently with one hand, running her fingers of the other hand over his parted lips. Her blue eyes appeared almost concerned as she gazed down at him. "His breath is so soft… he looks so much like his ancestor. I loved him, Rezo."

The priest nodded. "I know, my lady."

"This one would bring me much joy. I can teach him how to please me. I want him almost as much as I want that body." She looked up sharply at Rezo, her eyes pleading and he felt as if she were concentrated solely on him, looking to him for guidance as she might a father-figure. "I will have him, Rezo. Take me from this place. I need rest. I will have him, won't I? You will aid me in finding him again?"

The older man wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I will," he swore.

"And Firefly? Help me get back that body! I want that body. I will use that body to get that man. He loves her. I can feel that he can. I want to seduce him. I want to have that body and seduce him and watch the horror in his eyes when he realizes that Firefly isn't in there, Rezo! I will make them mine! I will!"

He leaned down and smelled her hair. It smelled like Kagome's hair always smelled: like the flowery shampoo she used. This, however, was somehow intoxicative. He felt his heart pump at the scent of her shampoo. "Of course you will," he moaned into her hair.

"Take me from this place."

He lifted his head and smiled down at her. "There is a secret exit only Suichiro and I know about for just such an occasion." He was pleasantly surprised when she suddenly leaned up and kissed him gently on his mouth. Her tongue brushed his lips and his knees almost gave out.

"Rezo," she said, in a voice bordering on a moan. She gazed up at him lovingly, brushing her hand over his cheek. "You are so wise. And Suichiro," she sighed, turning back to the younger man. The color swam to his face when she locked eyes with him. "You have the beauty of youth. Both are traits I find attractive. You shall both be rewarded this evening. I shall reward you well, until your very lungs ache from your worship. Rezo first, for his age will make him tired faster. Then he may retire into blessed, peaceful sleep, and Suichiro will entertain me for the rest of the night. You will not leave me unsatisfied, will you sweet one?"

Her words elicited such happy responses from it that he could barely speak from his eagerness. Suichiro yearned to grab Kagome and throw her down on the ground, ripping off her clothes then and there. He could not wait the hours it would take to find somewhere suitable for their habitation. He bit his lip to withhold an agonized groan. He bit it so hard he smelled his own blood. He didn't even feel that he minded sharing the same woman with his father, for he and Rezo were not related by blood. Regardless, it was his reward. He had earned it. He had earned it to please Shabranigdo, to taste her, to caress her and have her.

That was his reward.

"I will not leave you unsatisfied," he swore.

Kagome smiled at him, and Suichiro, for one moment, felt a stab of fear.

For one split second, he had seen a hunger so great it would never be satisfied, and he knew he would die trying to please something so starved.

* * *

In the basement, the candles were smoking. Miroku's khakis couldn't stand it anymore. They began smoking. His skin was polished with sweat. Sango fought on. He could hear her, far away. He could hear voices talking and then retreating. The fire overwhelmed everything. He could hear and feel the dragon around him, curling around him, ready to bring down those horrible jaws at any second.

Miroku shuddered, coughing. His lungs burned from the pain, the blood coating them, and the smoke. He could almost feel the blood and the smoke mingling in his lungs, turning to a kind of pitch. He tried to breathe in, but he couldn't. He coughed again. His wounds, the first cuts giving started to scab over, broke and oozed blood again. Miroku's fingers, hot as they were, were numb.

He could feel the horrible jaws of the dragon come closer.

* * *

To be continued... (on April 23rd)...


	34. The Lovers

Chapter 34: The Lovers

When Akane and Ranma pulled up in the black sedan there were already other cars there. Neither of them were quite surprised when they saw that the GPS had led them to Rezo's house. Ranma jumped out of the car while Akane struggled to open the door. When she got it open, Ranma slammed it shut on her. She jumped, still in the passenger seat.

"I'm coming too!" she protested, tears hiding just out of reach in her eyes.

"No, you're not," Ranma said firmly. She opened her mouth to try to argue. "Akane, you can't walk. I'm going in there. Don't worry. I can get in without being seen, if needs be. Stay in the car. You have your gun. There are extra bullets in the glove compartment. If people start coming out of that house, if it looks like someone's going to make it out, shoot them."

She looked horrified. "You want me to…" She was worried he was going to ask her to shoot people in the back as they ran away.

Ranma shook his head. "Don't shoot to kill. Shoot to maim. Shoot them in the leg or the knee. Don't shoot to kill. I don't even like suggesting you to do this as it is, but... but you're like me, aren't you? You won't be happy unless you're doing something. So…." He sighed and brushed his hair back. It flopped right back into place, full of a bounce Akane envied. He looked away from her. "Keep the doors locked, would you? I don't want… I don't…. I don't want anyone to steal the company car!"

Akane's held breath went out in a hiss. She knew that wasn't what he was about to say. She didn't know what Ranma was going to say, but she knew that hadn't been it. "Saotome Ranma…" she growled, shaking a fist warningly. Ranma didn't look at her.

"I don't want you getting hurt again," he admitted under his breath. Akane felt her cheeks to red. "So just stay in the goddamn car, will you?"

Blushing furiously, Akane was about to say something when they heard what sounded like a roar coming from the house. Both of them jumped and stood there staring at it. They heard it again, and then they knew they hadn't been hallucinating. Akane began trying to unlock the car door with shaking fingers. Ranma was trying to keep her from getting it open.

"That's Sango! That's Sango! I know it is!"

Ranma swore. He couldn't believe that anything human had made that sound. He seized Akane around her waist when she tried running to the house, stumbling on her injured leg. Tears of fear and pain were running down her face and she tried fighting him. Her hands beat against his shoulders as she tried to struggle away from Ranma to get to Sango, but he wouldn't let go. His arms were strong and he didn't flinch as her punches landed. In a moment, her leg gave out all the way and she landed against his chest, holding him for support.

"I know you want to help her, idiot," he said warmly. He didn't lighten his grip on Akane in the slightest. "There's nothing you can do injured, though. Just stay in the car, will you, Akane?"

She nodded and climbed back in. Ranma could hear cars approaching. They had called the IBSP on the way to the mansion and had told them where Sango and Miroku were. They knew they'd get into trouble for disobeying orders, but it would be worth it. Ranma turned, waving to the cars to indicate it was them, as the troop of sedans and SUVs, as well as two large trucks for criminal transportation pulled into the driveway.

And a cat. Ranma thought he was imagining it, but he saw a large pale gold cat run across the land. Ranma felt his knees go weak when he saw the cat. It was huge. The cat was simply enormous! The height, up to the tips of its ears, would have come up to the bottom of Ranma's pectoral muscles. The animal was large in width as well, all bulk and muscle. The tail seemed abnormally long for a cat, ending in a small tuft of fur for balance. What scared him the most were the teeth. That animal had fangs like he couldn't believe! In fact…

In fact, if Ranma thought it was impossible, he'd have thought the animal looked like a saber toothed tiger more than a mountain lion. He knew it was a mountain lion. The wheat-colored hide, the muscular build, the powerfully strong tail: mountain lion. But the height… and those fangs…

What was that in its mouth? It was holding something in his mouth. He was sure of it!

"Urahara! Urahara, she's in there!" Akane was yelling from the car. The cat turned to look at her once and then picked up speed.

One of the cars stopped and Kakashi jumped out, leaving the car door open and running. He'd spotted Ranma and Akane, but he didn't look mad. He looked more worried than anything. "Akane! Ranma! Are you two both okay?"

They nodded. Before they could answer, Akane pointed to the front door of the mansion. Just as Urahara had reached the front door of the mansion it had sprung open. People came running out, screaming for their lives. Akane could hear them screaming about someone going insane, about a monster. She knew they were talking about Sango and she worried what her friend was doing, but all that was pushed back when she saw what some of them looked like.

They were all wearing their linen robes. She knew they were naked underneath, just as they had been for the summoning ceremony she had seen before. She saw flashes of skin as their robes went flying as they ran away. She also saw claw marks. Some people were limping away, crying openly as they tried to stop bleeding in their legs or their chests. She saw others half-passed out, being carried. Their skin was black. It was charred, black, peeling skin from a deadly burn. Sango couldn't help but stare as she watched people clutch limbs that were red and blistered from burns.

Her eyes watered. "Oh, Sango… what are you doing… what happened that you…" She quickly dried her eyes. Her wound didn't seem so bad compared to the ones Sango had inflicted. Ranma was staring at her, but he didn't notice.

Kakashi grabbed Ranma, spinning him around. The young man noticed that his face was uncovered. There was a mild sensation of glee and surprise that Kakashi, a senior member, had forgotten something, and then it was replaced by seriousness. "Ranma! I'm going in after Kakashi. You're quick on your feet. Help these men go after the acolytes. Ambulances will be arriving soon. Make sure one of them sees to Akane, and then come down and help us. We could use a good fighter like you."

His heart swelled with pride at Kakashi's words, but he tried not to let them get to his head. "Yes, sir!"

* * *

Urahara followed the smell of blood down to the basement. When he got there the smell was so strong he could feel it tugging at him, enticing him. He smelled food, and the idea of eating the human meat churned his stomach. It was different eating something he had hunted. It was different eating an animal. But the idea of eating carrion, a dead human body laying on the ground that had once been an emotional, philosophical human? That idea just churned his stomach.

He forced himself back into his human form. Urahara took the med pack from his mouth to hold in it his hand. He knelt down beside the body to see how he had died. There were claw marks in his chest and arms. Gouges left in his throat suggested teeth. There was still a look of horror on his face. Worse, Urahara recognized the man. He worked in the IBSP garage. They'd had more than one mole than Kagura, apparently.

He looked at the claw marks again. They made him uneasy. The claw marks weren't exactly the right shape for a tiger or an animal. They were too widespread. The thumb didn't seem right, either…

Urahara bit back a groan as he let the dead body slide from his hands. It was opposable. The thumb was still opposable. That was why it didn't look right. It had been a human hand with claws that had done this. He looked up, his pale hair gold from a circle of flames as high as his head in the center of the basement. Somewhere in that cave, there was still Sango. When Sango had killed the man she had still been human.

He straightened, suddenly conscious of his nakedness. He was completely vulnerable in his human shape. His bad leg trembled slightly as he walked forwards. Urahara called for Sango as he walked toward to the circle of flames. Maybe she would recognize his voice. Urahara saw the opening in the flames. He looked through it. A silver-haired dog demon, his throat slashed, lay dead on the ground. Urahara bent down to examine him, but never got the chance. He saw Miroku laying on the table and rushed to him, calling his name.

The poor boy was unconscious. Urahara slapped his cheeks lightly, calling for him, but Miroku didn't respond. He was still alive. Urahara could hear him breathing. It was painful, and much too weak for him to have liked. He was breathing in the smoke from the fire around him, and his skin was covered with sweat. Urahara looked for something to cut his bonds with, but there was nothing. It didn't matter. The heat from the flames had weakened the rope around him. Urahara had it off of him in no time.

Scooping Miroku up, he set him down in the lee of the stone table, where the heat wasn't so bad. Automatically, Miroku began stirring, pressing his body further to the cool rock floor and sighing. The sigh made him cough. Urahara could hear how painful the cough was. He watched as tiny drops of blood landed on the floor beside Miroku's mouth.

And something that looked like tar. Urahara stared at it dumfounded until he realized that it was also blood. It was blood stained with the fumes of the burning bodies, Miroku's own burned bonds and khakis, his singed hair, and the smoke set off by the walls of flames.

There was nothing Urahara could do about it know. He grabbed the med-pouch and began to open it. Fixing Miroku's lungs would require more first aid then he knew how to give. There was a small canteen in the pouch. He wanted to use it too wash Miroku's chest, but the sweat from his body, on the most part, had done that already. Instead, he tilted Miroku's mouth open and poured the water down his throat. He was still able to swallow it. At least something in Miroku's body was alive and aware enough to make his body work, Urahara thought. He took out a small tube of disinfectant. There wasn't enough for his whole chest, but at least Urahara could put it on the worst of the cuts. He glanced down at Miroku's face.

"I'm sorry, kid. This is going to sting a lot." He began to apply the disinfectant over the cuts, stroking it over the wounds lightly with his thumb. He was trying to be as gentle as he could, but Miroku's brows still drew together from the pain. Urahara could hear him whimpering, calling out for someone. He leaned closer to Miroku.

His mother. He was calling out feverishly for his mother.

Urahara sighed. "At least you can still talk. There. That wasn't so bad, now was it?" He put away the disinfectant and pulled out gauze and medicinal tape. He began ripping out strips of gauze, covering Miroku's wounds. "I don't suppose you know where Sango is, do you? No? I didn't think so." Urahara pressed down a little too hard with the gauze and Miroku cried out, his soft cry turning into a coughing fit. He still didn't wake up, sadly.

"You hurt Miroku," a voice said. Urahara whirled around. He barely recognized Sango, he hadn't recognized her voice, and yet there was a slow realization that he was Sango the way she had meant to exist. She sat at the opening of the fire. She was mostly cat, her lithe body covered in a delicate layer of fur: white belly ripped here and there with the jagged ends of black stripes, and a delicate, pale orange on the top part of her body. They lightened around her face so that the human features were still prominent.

Her eyes were gold, flashing green in the flickering lights. The shape had changed: they were the wide, circular shape of a tiger, not the almond, human shape. Her hair was unbound and covered her shoulders and her breasts. Her hands were more like paws, though she still sported the opposable thumb. The soft ends of her hair and fur rippled from the air currents put out by the wall of flame.

What was most disturbing was the blood. Her lips had been stained cherry red, and specks of blood still clung stubbornly to her chin. Blood coated her hands, too. She lifted one of them and unsheathed her claws, licking them clean of blood with a large, rough tongue.

This was the Sango Urahara had always known existed: beautiful, dangerous, and alien. Something both human and inhuman. She was prettier than he had ever imagined in his wildest dreams. What he had not expected to see was the blood. He glanced over at the body he'd seen on the way in. He knew that she carried human blood on her hands, and it saddened him.

Her gold eyes never left him. "Why did you move him?"

Urahara glanced up at the altar and then back down at Miroku. "He was dying up there."

She began advancing on him. He saw her tail. It was beautiful, too. It snaked back and forth like it had a life of its own. Urahara reached for more gauze after forcing his gaze away from Sango. She called out his name softly and he looked up at her. She didn't seem to recognize him entirely. He even doubted that she knew she'd said his name. Sango began prowling around him. Urahara felt like he was being inspected and assessed.

Her upper lip was drawn back, as if in a snarl. It revealed fangs died red with old blood. The shape of her body as she walked made him a bit concerned. She had the physical body of a human and the skeletal system of a cat. She walked on all fours, her shoulders rolling with each step and her tail brushing his exposed skin as she twirled around him. Her breath on the back of his neck made his skin break out into goose bumps.

When she saw Urahara reach for Miroku she swatted his hand away from Miroku. She was suddenly in his face, snarling at him. "Don't you dare touch him! You hurt him! You'll hurt him again!"

To his amazement she lay down next to Miroku. Urahara had been terrified that she was going to attack him to defend Miroku. Instead, she turned and lay down next to Miroku, resting her chin on his shoulder. Her ears twitched. The flame walls began to lose their intensity as she looked at Miroku. The longer she looked, the more they died down. She shifted, lifting her head and licking at the blood that still stuck here and there to Miroku's chest. Urahara could hear her whimpering.

"Wake up, Miroku. Wake up." She licked him again, nudging his head with hers. "The bad guys are all gone. They won't hurt you again. Why won't you wake up, Miroku?"

Urahara leaned over to see her face. There were tears caught in her whiskers. As he watched the contours of her face began changing more. She was sinking deeper and deeper into the tiger, trying to keep her tears hidden. He could hear her purring, trying to be comforting as she nudged his chin.

"I took care of them. I took care of them all! They won't hurt you, Miroku! It's safe to come back now! Why aren't you coming back to me, Miroku? Urahara? Urahara, why isn't he waking up?"

She turned on him and he let out a painful sigh. Urahara moved so that he sat next to Miroku, and next to Sango. "Letting me fix him will help him wake up," he told, her, as if speaking to a child. It was almost painful to be aware that, on some level, he _was_ speaking to a child. Sango was emotionally vulnerable, and the one person she need right then was too weak to even hear her voice.

He reached over and brushed her fur. He was trying to lend her, in the same way that she was lending Miroku, comfort. Her fur was thick and soft. Her muscles were tense, and when he touched her he felt them become even more tense. She was preparing for pain and retaliation, and instead she was met with the pleasant touch of his skin brushing her hair. He slowly felt her muscles relax.

She nodded. She was so cat now that she had lost her voice. She spoke with telepathy. _Fix him. Make him wake up, Urahara._

He was allowed to continue. With Sango sitting by and watching he finished covering Miroku's wounds. Sango's gold eyes were locked on Miroku's face. Each time he whimpered or let out the tiniest hint of pain she reacted. Sometimes she just sat up. Other times she swiped at Urahara's hand. When Urahara at one point was forced to move his shoulders to wrap a wound he cried out painfully. At once Sango had Urahara's wrist in her mouth, ready to bite down. Only his calm resolution, gaze, and his voice were able to keep her from biting down. After that she would always sit back down, now again nudging Urahara or Miroku depending on who needed it, letting out a little roll of purrs to let them know she was present and watching, wanting them both to succeed.

_Can you make him wake up now, Urahara?_ She asked when he was done. Her tail flickered when she stared at him. She was returning to herself now. As she gazed at him, she corrected herself. _Urahara-sama._ _I apologize. Can you fix him, Urahara-sama?_

He shook his head no. She didn't fight it or question why he couldn't do it. Instead, she crossed over and lay between Urahara and Miroku. She rested her head in Urahara's lap and he began stroking her head, on the patch of fur between her large, fluffy ears. _Will he wake up soon?_

"The others will be starting their way down soon. We'll get him to an ambulance. Amy will have to tell you when he'll wake up, Sango, not me. I'm no doctor." He smiled down at her, though she couldn't see it. She was too busy staring at Miroku. "If it's any consolation, I think that he's already on his way back. If I knew that I had someone like you waiting for me, I'd wake up no matter what."

Her ears twitched in his direction. He knew it was the cat version of a small, slightly amused smile. Deep down, he worried. Miroku had lost a lot of blood, he'd gone through a lot of pain, and he'd breathed in a bit of smoke. The skin closest to flames was blistering from the intensity. He didn't know if Miroku would want to come back to a body that badly injured.

_This is my fault, Urahara-sama. The candles went haywire because of me. People burned because of me. People died and are dying because of me. This is all my fault. Miroku's dying because of me._

"No. That isn't your fault."

_Yes, it is!_ she cried. Her voice indicated that on the inside she was crying. _I let myself be caught! I didn't fight enough! I wasn't good enough to protect myself or him! He came here to _save me_, Urahara-sama! He came here for me and look at what happened as a result! I helped to _kill _him, Urahara-sama! I killed them all! I can't smell you! I didn't even know it was you when I saw you! All I can smell is blood: my blood, their blood, and his blood! It's everywhere. No matter how much I clean, I can taste it, and I can smell and won't come off! I killed them! They were screaming, they were crying, and I killed them! They were humans, like me, and…_

"No." Urahara shook his head. "They weren't like you, Sango. They were fully human. You aren't. You're half demon, Sango. This is _my_ fault, Sango. I should have better prepared you for this. Your life was in danger. It happens to all of us. Even humans, sometimes, Sango, even normal humans. Worse, _Miroku's_ life was in danger. The life of someone you love was in danger and you had to protect it. It made your anger all the more potent. You couldn't have helped it, Sango."

She sniffled, even in her cat-form. Urahara knew then she wasn't returning to human. She couldn't cry in her tiger form. As a tiger she was emotionally closed off from her body. She couldn't sob or cry. She was safe and protected. Only her mental voice betrayed her emotions. That was laden with sobs and mental hiccups.

_It's not just that, Urahara-sama. I killed them. I'm a murderer, Urahara-sama! A murderer!_

He could hear her crying. All he could do was stroke her fur, trying to comfort her in that way. If she had been human he could have at least held her. With her as a tiger he couldn't even do that. She didn't trust him enough to be a human around him as she wept over Miroku. But if Miroku had been there, if he had been awake enough to hold her… Urahara couldn't deceive himself. She would be human for Miroku.

"Sango…"

_I'm sorry!_ She sobbed. She licked his hand, searching for more comfort from him. Her rough tongue brushed his fingers, as if she was almost trying to comfort him as well. She cried, inside. On the inside she was tearing herself apart. She sobbingly repeated her words. _I'm sorry._

Somewhere along the line, she stopped referring to the people she had killed. Somewhere along the line, she ceased referring to Miroku. Somewhere along the line she started talking directly to Urahara. She was apologizing for hurting him, for breaking his heart. She _was_ trying to comfort him, purring steadily and licking his fingers, wrapping her warm body around his. She was trying to be his friend. _I'm so sorry, Urahara-kun._

He closed his eyes. He closed them and he smiled down at her, wishing he could retreat into another form himself. "Don't be sorry, Sango. Miroku was willing to die for you. So was I. He loves you every bit as much as I love you. I wouldn't have you falling for someone who loved you less. We both love you. But you were willing to give up some part of yourself for _him_, not for me. You gave yourself for him. You gave up something in yourself for him, and it means every bit, if not more than, the physical sacrifice either of us would have given for you.

"You love him, Sango. I know you have for awhile now. He makes you happy. That's all I ever wanted for you, Sango. If you chose me, I would have been happy, but you wouldn't have been and I would have blamed myself. Neither of us would have been happy. Miroku makes you happy. So don't be sorry, Sango. Be happy, for both of us."

She stared up at him, and he leaned down to kiss her nose. Her tongue licked his face, itching his unshaven chin. Sango couldn't help it anymore. She needed the physical release. She needed to cry.

His arms wrapped around her as her human form emerged. He held her as he had when she had been a little girl and he had been her whole world.

And Sango cried.

* * *

They found a place to hide for the night. Kagome was hungry. They ran down the street, until Kagome stopped. She leaned up on the balls of her feet to peer over a fence. In the backyard a husband and wife were languidly sitting in the hot tub, enjoying each other's company.

When Rezo and Suichiro turned back around, Kagome was gone. They didn't know where she had gone until they heard screaming from the other side of the fence. By the time they both made it over the man was dead, his neck twisted, and Kagome was wrestling with the woman. Her lips covered hers to keep her from screaming, but both men could tell she still continued. The sound was muffled. They wanted to look away. They didn't want to see those two women fighting with each other, to watch as Kagome drew out the woman's life to satiate her own body.

Yet they couldn't help it. She was beautifully, their Kagome. They couldn't take their eyes off of her. They watched her as she kissed the woman, her slender hands somehow managing to keep the frantic woman pinned against the wall of the hot tub. Then, slowly, the woman began to struggle less. Her eyes began less animated. Rather than staring at Kagome in horror, they stared at her without seeing her. Kagome leaned back, licking her lips.

"I am still hungry. Keep this woman alive, Rezo. I will require her in the morning. I left enough in her to satiate me in the morning. Hers will be a passionless love, but the physical release will be enough to satiate me." She smiled, running her fingertips over her throbbing lips. "It has been years since I have seen something so beautiful. Do you know how beautiful it is, Rezo? I've left her just enough energy for one last romp, one last game. She will perform mechanically, but her orgasm shall be real. And when she does it will suck everything out of her, all of that remaining energy. She'll kill herself. She'll die blissfully. It's beautiful, Rezo."

Laughing delightedly, she turned to the man. The woman didn't react at all as Kagome pushed back his neck, hearing bones crunch as the broken neck rearranged itself again. She stared at it a second, pouting. "Human teeth cannot cut through this skin. I require blood. Do either of you have something to use to cut?"

Suichiro patted down his pockets. He found his Swiss army knife and passed it to her. She stared at her, curious, leaning back in the warm water. Her dark hair spread out on the surface of the water, billowing. "What a contraption is this! Ah, Suichiro. What a world this is. Swiss army knives, hot tubs, barbecues, picket fences… I can read it all from Kagome's thoughts. Such things you humans have created, and such horrors too. The H-Bomb, atomic weapons, biochemical weapons, kamikaze fighters and terrorists. Words, names, terms, and things… How can a race of people who seem to love fighting so much also come up with ideas like humanitarian? And how can a world that seems so involved with fighting come up with…"

She listed off sex toys. Suichiro blushed. Rezo's face was still. The younger man almost had a heart attack when Kagome leaned forward in the hot tub, looking up at them both.

"I want to see these things. I want to see all of these things first hand. I want to see the small, hand held weapons first as well as the sexual toys. I must know how to make my followers fear me and love me. Anything that can help me to either strike fear in their hearts or to please them is an asset."

She turned to the man, slitting his throat with Suichiro's little knife. The woman didn't react. Kagome did, leaning against his body and pressing her lips to the cut, drinking down the blood that slipped from the cut. She sucked the rest from the body with pleased noises. Suichiro felt like he was going to be ill.

Reze knelt by the pool. "My lady," he said politely, "about the others? The ones who followed you through me have fled. I saw the IBSP there as we left, though I don't think they saw us. Many of them would have been captured. There are others. I know there are. There are others around the world., and others we can summon from the astral plane. When do we do so? How do we get in contact with them?"

She stopped drinking and looked up at him. At first she seemed mad he had interrupted her supper, but then she smiled. Kagome reached up, running her wet hand along his jaw line. Rezo didn't blink and she admired that.

"My dear Rezo, leave that up to me. It's not as if I can simply use a telephone to call them. That is what the girl is for. Tomorrow morning, I will reach out to them. I will let them know I am back. Some will come for me, the truly loyal ones. Others will remain as they are, knowing that they serve me better across the world. We will keep moving. We will find another place to spend the night before the IBSP sweep the area. When we have moved again I will start summoning my companions from the astral plane. We need not have a circle. This body has much untapped power, much more than _you_ gave her credit for, Rezo. Kagome can rip open the worlds herself. Yes, _rip_."

She closed her eyes, running her fingers over his lips. "I will not summon individually. I will rip the fabric between the planes. It will not be a large rip. Large demons will not be able to make it through, but the small ones will. For that, I must have wilderness. The air is disgusting. I need someplace clean, someplace where the old power is the strongest. Do you know of such a place, Rezo?"

He nodded. "I do."

"Then you will lead me there tomorrow morning. But there is one other thing which concerns me. This IBSP… it concerns me. They will be preparing for me… Who leads them? Can their leaders be turned?"

"My lady," he began nervously. "Sesshoumaru… and Ruki…"

Her hand reached out, whipped out, and grabbed him by the neck. She squeezed his neck so tightly Suichiro could hear his father choking. She was furious; beautiful and furious. "Never mention those names in my presence! Never! Do you understand me! Never!" He nodded frantically and she let him go. Rezo collapsed to his knees, panting. "Then they cannot be turned. We must anticipate their retaliation. We must be courteous to them. We must let them know that the war has begun again…" She stood in the hot tub thinking, and then shrugged. Suichiro's body twitched at the movement. Her wet shirt clung to her body and the movement of her shoulders made her beasts all the more attractive. Though Kagome was almost twice Suichiro's age, her body seemed to be that of a teenager's, still lovely and pert and soft.

"I will debate what to do after diner. Do not bother me again until I am finished."

* * *

Suichiro lay on the couch in the living room of the dead neighbors. His hands braced his head as stared up at the ceiling, rather grumpy. Kagome had finished eating about forty minutes ago. Then she had taken Rezo upstairs, telling Suichiro to ransack the kitchen for food. He'd found ingredients to make a tuna fish sandwich, but he'd only eaten half of it. He hadn't been able to stomach it once he had heard the bed creaking from the second floor of the house. Disgusted, Suichiro lay on the couch and watched television.

Ten minutes ago the bed had stopped creaking. He still lay, watching the news. There was no mention of the events at Rezo's mansion. Why should there have been? That was IBSP news. This was a human broadcast. The show was nearing conclusion when the reporter suddenly mentioned their last story. It seemed that a prominent surgeon had nearly died after an assassination attempt. Suichiro sat up, staring at the picture on the screen. It was a picture of Kagome and Inuyasha on their wedding day.

"Though weak, it seems that the doctor is recuperating just fine in a private health care facility. However, his wife, Kagome Higurashi, was abducted by the assassin. Please, Kagome's family asks everyone to be vigilant and watch for her. They want their daughter back safe and sound. If any of you have seen this woman or have any information, please call the number on the bottom of your screen. This same number will be available on our website. Thank you, and have a nice evening, folks. This is channel…"

"He's alive?"

"Of course he's alive," Kagome said from behind Suichiro. He didn't turn and look at her. He could hear her bare feet softly padding into the kitchen and the fridge door open. He heard her pour herself something to drink. "He's a half demon, Suichiro. Silver will kill him, not steel. He'll be very weak from blood loss for a long time, but he'll recuperate. He'll probably even have a nasty scar to show that he survived."

The fridge door opened again and she put the drink back. Suichiro turned off the television so he could hear her better. "I'm sorry that I took so long. I couldn't stand getting back into those nasty, bloody clothes. I wanted something you would like, Suichiro. I went through the woman's clothes. She had a lot of lingerie, Suichiro. I quite liked it. There was one that was black leather. I _loved_ that one. I wish to have more of it. But… but from what I can gather from Kagome's mind, that might have been too much for our first night together. Do men your age even like something so extreme? So I copied Kagome's memories."

She was standing by the couch now. Suichiro looked at her. She was sipping lightly at a glass of water. In her other hand was holding a lighter, lighting a cluster of candles so that the room was softly illuminated. It did her body good. She was wearing a long white Oxford shirt. The way the candles sat illuminated the curve of her breast and hips. The shirt was also a little see through. It was quite obvious Kagome was wearing nothing underneath.

"Well?" she asked, prompting him. She set the glass down and walked closer to him. "Your father didn't say anything at all when I rewarded him. I hope it isn't genetic. I don't like it when I try hard to please people and they say nothing. It pleases me much more when they moan," she said, undoing a button. Suichiro's voice was caught in his throat. Her fingers began fiddling with the next button. "I like it when they say my name." The next button fell open. Suichiro's hands were griping the seat to keep from grabbing her. "I like it best when they scream. I don't consider them fully satiated until they scream." Only two buttons were left. Kagome undid the bottom one next. Suichiro was breathing heavily. He could smell her, and she was intoxicating. Her fingers toyed with the last button. "I like it best when they scream for God," she admitted. The Oxford shirt fluttered around her body like a ghostly apparition and then fell to the ground. She ran her hands over her hips. "Because when I have you, God can't hear you. You're screaming for me, and for me alone. I am your God, Suichiro."

He nodded, unable to take his eyes from her body. Kagome smiled down at him, taking his hands and placing them on her hips. She watched as Suichiro bit his lips, as if her skin burned him. "You are young, Suichiro. Rezo was not. His reward was his release. Your reward is different. Your reward is two fold. It is not pleasing for me to simply have sex. My own climax is difficult to build. I require stamina. I require youth and vitality." She bared her teeth at him. It was supposed to be a smile. "And I require dominance. I must not be in control. Your reward is to please _me_, Suichiro, for you will be the one with the initiative. You must have the insatiable appetite. You must do what you want with me. Take me. Love me. _Have_ me, Suichiro. That…"

She never got to finish. With the growl of an animal Suichiro tightened his grip on her and threw her to the floor. She laughed, and he smiled, eager. He didn't even bother to undress himself, not at first. Every time he seemed to be coming to a climax, Kagome touched him, urging him to continue and to forget about how good it felt _there_ or _here_ by redirecting his attention. It was wonderful; it was intense; it was everything Suichiro had hoped it would be and more. He was intoxicated with her. Every time he was close, she changed something and then everything became better. She let him do things to her he never could have imagined doing with a girl their first night out, and she seemed to enjoy it.

It was so good it was almost painful.

Two hours. Two hours and fourteen minutes after they had begun, Kagome was writhing in pleasure on the floor. Suichiro, his hands on her so tight they felt numb, was moving with her, moving into her. Kagome was moaning with pleasure, smiling and laughing between her moved cries. Suichiro wasn't moaning. His mouth was busy. He was kissing her every where he could, biting her, as she had told him she liked. Her hands raked across his back and drew blood as she cried out in ecstasy.

Finally, Suichiro drew back, his black hair plastered to his face with sweat. Kagome reached for him, and he held out his arms, welcoming her. She kissed his lips. She kissed his neck, and up to his ear. She bit his ear and he winced.

"You didn't scream for me, Suichiro," she sighed. "I'm not satiated yet."

He let out a little whimper, something that almost sounded like pain. He felt like a little child as her hands worked his body, guiding him where to go. Every time he tried to tell her he was too tired, she sighed and she touched him, kissed him, licked him and bit him, and he continued. Finally, an hour after she had commanded him to continue, Suichiro lay with his back against the floor. He was holding on the edge of the couch for support as she rode against him. His eyes were on her, unable to move away as her body swayed in the air. Her hands ran up and down her body, keeping him entranced. As she began to climax again, it became too much for him.

He clutched her too him, kissing her creamy skin and wrapping his hands in her hair so hard it hurt her. She enjoyed it. She enjoyed the passion he displayed as he rolled her over, moaning into her body and moving so hard and so fast that Kagome herself wanted to scream in pleasure. It had been so long since she had had a mouth to use to scream, or a body to please.

He kept going. He couldn't stop. It was agony. He kept going. And then, then, when he wasn't expecting it, there was the end. In his mind everything exploded into colors. Fireworks seemed to go off in his mind. Everything left him. All of his thoughts and worries and the feeling of pain left his body and his muscles tightened and released. And tightened and released. And tightened and released.

He lay panting against her. Kagome smiled at him, kissing his hair and holding him to her warm body, off of the cold wooden floor. He smiled at her, still moaning softly. His body was hot and tired. When he held her and his body brushed hers he could feel tremors go through it.

"Oh God, Kagome…"

"Not Kagome," she said.

"What?"

She was staring at the fireplace, where a picture of flowers hung over the mantle. The Demon smiled, brushing his hair. "Kagome is the name of the woman inside of me. She is silenced, for now. She retreated when she saw the things we were doing to each other, Suichiro. Now she is hiding in there, crying, calling herself an adulteress because her body enjoyed what you did to her. Kagome is a captive in this mind. I am not a captive. I am, therefore, not Kagome." She kissed his hair. "You can call me Kikyo. I like that name. I think this body looks like it could belong to a Kikyo. And the phonetics of it. Imagine how good it will sound when you scream that name, Suichiro. And I, I will call you Kokyuo. Kikyo and Kokyou. Yes. You have served me well, my young one. You will do it again. You will be my favorite."

Suichiro had his reward.

* * *

Fin... epilogue to be uploaded on the 28th


	35. Epilogue

AN: Abarai Renji is a charactrer from Bleach, AKA, not mine. Xellos belongs to Slayers Next and Slayers Try, AKA not mine again. Do you see a pattern developing? A note on Inuyasha' blindness: He still has his eyes; he's just blind. However, they are the silver, colorless ones that Rezo had before. Rezo has Inuyasha's brown(human)/gold(demon) eyes, but Inuyasha gets angry... his eyes still change color. I don't know why I decided that... maybe Urahara can figure it out for me.

Epilogue

"Ah, Sango's back. We can start now," Urahara said, smiling at his friend.

She took the seat next to him, feeling very out of place. At the head of the table sat Sesshoumaru, flanked by both Rukia and Ichigo. Also present were a host of demons, half-demons and some humans Sango had never seen before, all of them looking very important with their designer suits and their proud gazes. Fuu and Ferio, as well as her uncle, were also present. Much to her surprise, handcuffed to the chair and looking quite disgruntled, sat Inuyasha.

Rukia stood up, coughing for attention. She had it almost immediately. Despite her small stature, all eyes turned to her, and she seemed imposing in the quiet room. She glanced around the table, staring at everyone in turn for a moment, and then held her chin high.

"War will be upon us shortly. The IBSP has made us strong, for it has made us united, but we have grown lax with peace. We are lucky, for Shabranigdo is weak. He cannot strike us yet, and so we have time to more. The International Bureau of Studies for the Paranormal is being shut down and relocated. We cannot have all of us in one place. It is folly. A single well-conducted attack could wipe us out. Scouts are already scouring Japan, searching for new bases. Supplies are being packed up, and people are being told to move themselves, post haste. By tomorrow evening, we aim that only three layers in this building shall remain active. The first is the jail area. We lack the facilities to contain demons elsewhere. The second shall be the morgue, until a suitable sight can be constructed. The third will be the Bond Level, as it is affectionately called. Again, we need time to build the appropriate place for Urahara and his group to relocate."

There were murmurs as Rukia paused. In particular, one man was quite vocal. Sango stared at him, curious at the poppy-red hair tied in a tight ponytail and the tattoos she could see peeking over the collar of his shirt. Slowly, Rukia's eyes turned to him.

"Abarai Renji, have you something you'd like to address?"

Sango bit her lip to keep in a gasp of surprise. Abarai Renji! Sango had never expected him to look… look so... bureaucratic. He was the head of security at the IBSP, the head of the security department and in charge of the guards, the tape monitors, the security passes, the security codes: anything and everything to do with the protection of the building and people within the IBSP was under his jurisdiction. She had always imagined him as rather rugged and decked out in weapons. The reality was quite opposite. In his tasteful clothes he looked like a businessman, and the sunglass laying by his side accompanied with the hair and the tattoos made him look more hip than anything.

"I have questions, Rukia-sama, but I will not address them so long as _he_ is here." He nodded down to Inuyasha. The other man growled back at him softly.

Rukia frowned at them both. They childishly continued to glare at each other. "If you don't like him being here, Renji, then you may leave. Inuyasha is important right now, as is Sango. Otherwise, address your question first and then I will address the issue of these two and why they will now be holding permanent seats on this council."

Renji bolted up, sputtering. "Permanent! Rukia-sama!"

Sango had almost jumped up too. Fuu's hand touched hers, and Urahara's hand landed on her shoulder before she could leap up in protest. She didn't know why she was here. She had been summoned, and so she had come. That's what good IBSP members did, she'd always been taught.

Rukia glared at Renji. "Yes. Permanent. Now, speak."

He glared at her, but he sat back down in his eat. Slowly, the glare died away, and Sango was surprised to see that he actually looked worried. He regarded Rukia hopefully, and with something more than that, something that resembled love. It wasn't love _exactly_, Sango observed, but something close to it, which mingled with it. It was something more like respect, or honor.

"Do you… will it… will Shabranigdo really cause a war?"

Rukia met his gaze evenly. Her voice was strict. "Last night, before we called this meeting, we got a box from Shabranigdo. It came to us via a delivery service. We had it tested for bombs. When we opened it up, there was such a stench that even I lost my lunch. Inside, there was a human head from his latest victim. She'd been in a hot tub for about ten hours. It was a message. Shabranigdo doesn't need to kill. Some of his followers do. Shabranigdo doesn't need to kill to _live,_ but he kills anyway. He kills to enforce his position, he kills to reward people, and he kills for fun. Everytime he kills for fun, he's going to send us a part of their body."

Renji gulped.

"And that is why Sango and Inuyasha are here and will continue tobe here. I know the spell they used on Miroku. I only wish I had seen the connection earlier! Ichigo and I were working on those bodies! I should have made the connection…"

Surprisingly, it was Sesshoumaru who calmed her down. With his hands folded and tucked under his chin as he leaned on the desk he looked like he had distanced himself from the conversation. It appeared he had done anything but. "You can't be expected to remember everything, Rukia. None of us can."

The small woman nodded, but she didn't really seem to accept it. "I know the spell," she repeated. "They had to kill Miroku to complete it. Killing Miroku would cement Shabranigdo into one form, transforming the host body into a half-demon, or a full-demon if they were already half-demon. If they were a full-demon already, they would have become stronger."

"Transubstantiation," one of the men at the table said, nodding.

Sango knew the term. It wasn't transubstantiation, not really. That was a Catholic thing, the idea that during their Roman Catholic ceremonies normal, every day wine was blessed from a priest and through some unknown, unseen, and other-worldly force the wine was transformed into the blood of Christ. That wasn't transubstantiation, but it had the same idea. A human body was transformed into something else, something impossible, because of a powerful being.

"But Miroku is still alive, and recovering wonderfully, from what I hear. Shabranigdo is not at full strength. But, if my theory is correct, it means that Shabranigdo is not restricted to one body the way our essences are. He can move about. How he does it, how many times he can do it, they all depend on how much strength Shabranigdo possesses." She straightened, pushing back her dark hair. A lock of it fell back in place, brushing her nose. "They tried to use Sango's body."

Urahara's hand was still on Sango's shoulder. He squeezed it reassuringly as many pairs of eyes all turned and stared at Sango. She blushed under their suspicious gazes. When she risked looking up, she found that not all of them were suspicious. Some of them were ones of fear and, almost worse, of pity. At these last ones she glared back in response, challenging them. Most of them looked away and paid attention to Rukia as she continued.

"For a brief while Sango was possessed by the demon. She managed to eject it, but we wonder about possible side effects." Rukia seemed to wish she hadn't said these words, and she quickly continued.

Sango continued to stare at Rukia, feeling shaken. Side effects? What side effects? Fuu squeezed her hand. She was grateful for the friendly hand on her shoulder and the motherly one in her lap. Without the steady, gentle pressure they had on her she would have snapped and said something.

"Do you think you could tell us what it was like having Shabranigdo inside you mind, Sango?" Sango was so shocked by the question she missed Rukia's pained expression at having to ask it. Rukia wished she could have let Sango forget the incident, but her memories would prove to be vitally important to their war-cause.

The young lady's face paled and she shook her head. "I… I don't want to…"

Rukia shut her eyes briefly. Several seats down from her, Sango was aware that Ichigo was tensing, getting ready to stand up and take matters into his own hands. Rukia slowly sat back down as Ichigo stood up. Sango was certain that if Akane had been there, for the first time in her life, Akane wouldn't have been afraid of the red-headed man. He was smiling at her gently. He slowly walked forward. Urahara and Fuu's hands slid from Sango as he twirled her chair around. Kneeling, Ichigo took Sango's hands into her own. She stared down into his brown eyes, wishing, wishing she wasn't there, wishing she could forget, wishing that she could just quit the council and go see Miroku, wishing…

"What was it like?"

He said it so gently, so much like Miroku, that for a brief moment Sango thought she was mistaken. Ichigo wasn't touching her, holding her hand. It was Miroku. God help her, that was almost believable, and it worked enough for Sango to find her voice. Thinking of Miroku, with the way his eyes danced and how he could illicit a smile from anyone, made her want to speak. She wanted to be brave, like him. She wanted to be strong enough, strong enough that he couldn't worm his way under her armor like he'd already done. Dealing with Shabranigdo was a way to make herself stronger.

So if it made her stronger, how come she was crying?

She felt Fuu reach around, standing behind the chair and brushing Sango's hair gently. It made her feel a bit easier. Miroku had learned Fuu's ways of coming people down, that was for certain.

"You can still feel your body. At first it felt like nothing has changed. You can feel your body, every inch of it. And then you realize that his hands are running over your body, exploring it." Tears began to drip from the corner of her eyes as she remembered the way Shabranigdo had touched her. "He explores your body, judging it. And you can feel it. You can feel his hands pressing into your stomach and your hands as they press… and you try to control yourself. You try to stop the way the hands move over your body, and you can't. You try to speak and you can't. You can't even focus your eyes. He makes you stare at whatever he knows will affect you the most, does things…"

She shuddered and continued. "It's not you in control at all. It's _him_. You know he's there. It's like a glass wall surrounds you. A glass cage! You can feel him everywhere, all around you, and you can't fight back against him. You can't see him. There's nothing there _to_ fight! But he sees you. He holds you in that little glass box and he can see everything about you. He can see your hopes, your dreams, your knowledge, your memories… and your fears. And he makes fun of them. Even your dreams. He throws all of your mistakes in your face. He knows just what to say to make you feel hopeless. He makes you relive the worst moments of your life over and over and over again. And you… you get so mad at him that you yell and scream and swear and he _laughs_ at you. He takes pleasure out of your agony…

"That's what the worst thing is. It's not the loss of control over your body. It's the things he says he's going to do with it," she sobbed. Sango couldn't help it. She was clinging to Ichigo's broad shoulders, crying, sobbing, burying her face in his chest as if he were her uncle. As she thought about it, the more things kept coming back to her. They were painful, sore wounds, the things he had told her. They still sat, open wounds on her heart, waiting to inflict pain the moment her thoughts came close to them.

"He threatened to kill Miroku, Ichigo-sama! He tasted his blood. He made me taste Miroku's blood. He told me all the things they were going to do him. He told me how they were going to kill him. He was going to use me; he was going to use my body. It… it made me so mad… and then he started talking about letting me be used as a reward… to give his followers my body so they could abuse me… to give me to Suichiro as a prize… and all because I had killed Miroku…"

There was nothing more to say. There was nothing more Sango could say. She was wrapped around Ichigo, crying. He was as solid as stone, his arms wrapped back around her, his brown eyes fiercely protective of her as he let her cry. Fuu and Ferio were shocked at what she had said; Urahara and Kakashi looked compassionate; Rukia was ashamed that she had to make Sango relive Shabranigdo's possession; Sesshoumaru was stern, his face showing no emotion; but the other men in the room looked like something inside of them had broken. Kakashi was a well-respected member of their society. They knew him; they knew Sango. Many of them, like Abarai Renji, had watched Sango grow up within the IBSP. Seeing their normally solid, steady girl sobbing and clinging to Ichigo was a sobering sight.

"Are you trying to tell me," said a growl from the far end of the table, "that my Kagome's body is being inhabited by that… by some _thing_ that's abusing her body and mentally _fucking_ with her?"

The people, save Sango and Ichigo, turned to see Inuyasha. He was hardly a pretty sight at the moment. A red gash stretched across his neck.Thoughpredominately healed, it was still red, sore, and swollen. His silver hair had tangled, and as he spoke of Kagome, the faintest sight of ruby emerged in his eyes as his fangs thickened.

Ichigo nor Sango answered. He had picked her up, scooping her up into his arms. Sango didn't resist. She liked being there, his body offering steady understanding and warmth. When she felt new hands touching her waist to steady her she looked up into the face of her uncle. Her arms slid from Ichigo and instead wrapped around her uncle's shoulders. Her tears were done, but the sight of him made them start a new. Kakashi's eye looked at her with such deep sympathy and sorrow that Sango felt like crying from relief. He was not holding her tears against her. Moreover, she was crying from the guilt of having made Kakashi worried.

It was Rukia who answered Inuyasha. She said nothing. She simply locked eyes with him and nodded, daring him to say or do something to change Kagome's predicament. Inuyasha leaned back when confronted with the challenge, deep within a mental debate.

"I'm sorry, Uncle," Sango whispered to him. One of his hands reached up and dried her tears from her cheeks. She smiled at him weakly, feeling even more out of place. It was hard to imagine any of the strong men or women present curled up on their uncle's laps and apologizing for crying.

"It's a natural thing, Sango," was his reply. "Sometimes it's good to get it out. I was always glad when you were little that you were too grown up to cry when you skinned your knee… I don't even know if mature is a good word for it. At times, it made me concerned, Sango."

"Really? Why?"

He smiled at her, brushing her hair. Sango leaned her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. His voice was comforting in its familiarity. "Because Sango, sometimes people simply cry. Sometimes they need to get something out and it is easiest to get it out through tears. Sometimes crying is the natural response. I still cry when I hurt myself. You always held so much emotion back because you didn't want to show it because you felt it might somehow make you weak."

Her voice was quiet. It was barely above a whisper and Kakashi, with his close proximity, had to strain to hear it. "These people do probably think I'm weak… I don't know if I'll ever be able to look Ichigo-sama in the eye."

"You will," he said, believing that it was the truth. "None of these people think you're weak for what happened, Sango. It's the opposite, in fact. You went through something we can barely understand and something that made them feel weak and scared just from hearing you speak about it. You experienced it first hand, and you survived. Even better, you managed to save yourself. You found a way to push him from your mind, Sango. You're a survivor. Crying has nothing to do with that image you created for yourself."

The smallest smile of pride tugged at Sango's mouth. Feeling strange at smiling while there were still tear-stains on her cheeks she buried her face in her uncle's neck to hide them both.

Inuyasha had decided. He leaned as far forward in his chair as his restraints would let them. As if he was trying to make the words come out quicker or easier he'd raised his voice, forcing them out. "I can give you the names of the people in the IBSP who were moles! I can tell you everyone I know about! Gin! Suboshi-san! Xellos-san!"

At the last name, one of the men at the table pulled out a gun. He held it straight at Inuyasha, fear in his eyes. They were open and wide, an odd shade of purple. He pulled the trigger and a shot ran out. The man's gun was shot away. He stood, wounded, his hand dripping blood where a bullet had grazed him. He whirled and glared at the other end of the table. Sesshoumaru's smoking gun rested on the table before him and he was glaring at the man. The others at the table were already reaching for their own weapons, the quicker ones already having drawn them and pointing them. All they needed was an excuse to shoot.

The man looked around at his predicament and then grinned. He simply vanished.

Abarai Renji jumped up. He turned to Sesshoumaru, waiting to follow and wanting the command. There was a smile on his face Sango recognized from the mirror. He longed for the chase Xellos was giving him and he knew it would be a successful hunt.

Sesshoumaru nodded. "Bring back Xellos. I would prefer alive so that we may find out if his subordinates were also members of this cult." Abarai grinned and winked out of existence, just as Xellos had. The leader gazed back down across the long table. "Proceed, Inuyasha."

The half-demon frowned at being spoken to so rudely. "Rezo has a place outside of town. He calls it his summer house. I can give you directions. He probably doesn't know I'm helping you, so he might go there and hide out until they find a way to get their feet back on the ground."

One of the people shook her head. Sango didn't know her, but if Miroku had been there he would have realized she was the Dean of his university. "Rezo already has his feet back on the ground. He came to work today, the cocky bastard. We don't have any hard evidence linking him to the crime. We have no way to hold him legally."

Inuyasha's ears picked up. "Hard evidence? I thought you guys were above the law!"

"We try to work with the human law, not against it," she coldly answered.

Inuyasha snarled with anger. "Then let me out of these fucking chains! Let me go and find Kagome myself! Let me out of here, damn it!"

Rukia's voice was hard. "We have testimonies keeping you here, Inuyasha. Sango and Miroku, for one. Secondly, Kagura has admitted that she killed Wufei, and that you were the one who killed Eve. Lastly, we aren't holding you here as a criminal, though you will be under restraint, guard, and lock and key. Inuyasha the surgeon was injured in a kidnapping and is spending time at a private health care center to recuperate. We don't want you to be a criminal right now, Inuyasha. The public will be more likely to call us if they see Kagome because we've made a tragedy. She's the beautiful wife of a potentially dying, upper-class man. If we introduced her to the public as the missing wife of a criminal, people wouldn't remember her. Those that did would do so because they were afraid of her. They would be more likely to scare her away then help us find her."

Silence briefly rested over the table. Sango slowly looked u p, glaring down the table at the handcuffed half-demon. "How come you're helping us? I don't get it."

He stiffened. Eventually he looked away. "If what you said is the truth than Kagome is being tortured by that thing. I thought my wife was dead. I thought that when Shabranigdo took over that she was dead. Kagome wouldn't have tried to kill me. Kagome wouldn't have slashed my throat and looked so pleased when she did it. I thought Rezo had played me. I thought nothing of my wife remained in that body, but according to you, she does. I want my wife back. I was telling the truth to you, Sango. I would do anything for her. I have killed for her and I will kill again for her, if needs be. So I will help you find Shabranigdo because that will help me find my wife. My help, understand Sesshoumaru, will only extend that far. After I get Kagome back I don't give a damn about the IBSP."

"After you get your wife back we will arrest you for manslaughter and you will be sentenced by your peers in a proper court of law," the other white-haired demon said sternly.

Inuyasha seemed to have no complaint over this. "But I'll have Kagome back. She'll be safe." He was smiling. So long as he had Kagome back, Inuyasha didn't care what happened to him. It was like a game. Inuyasha considered himself to have won so long as his wife was safe and sound.

The rest of the meeting was fairly boring. It was all a discussion about what they were going to do, where they were going to move, and how to organize it. At one point Sango even accidentally began to drift off to sleep from boredom. She had been manipulated into the telling her story because it, in turn, manipulated Inuyasha into helping them. Whatever they had been talking about "lingering effects" it thus far didn't seem to be of importance. Maybe Rukia had been stretching the truth, even!

When the meeting was ended and everyone was excused, Sesshoumaru's voice broke out over the others. "Tora-san…. Please remain behind for a moment."

The others left. The meeting room felt large and alien when it was just Sango and Sesshoumaru. She shifted nervously, toying with the belt loops of her jeans. Was this about her state of dress? Had he been affronted because she had worn a t-shirt and jeans to a meeting of some of their most important members?

"Sesshoumaru-sama…"

"Rukia wasn't kidding when she said there may be side-effects. Some people that Shabranigdo has had… intimate relations with in the past have maintained a psychic connection with him. It's how they keep in contact. He canlocate them when they need him and in turn they can sense when he is in trouble, so that they can go and aid him." He sighed. His silver hair floated around him. "It's true that those relations were sexual. Yours and his weren't, but it was intimate. Perhaps even more intimate than those sexual ones I spoke of. You two, for a brief time, shared a body. All we would like to ask is that you pay more attention to the urges you have. If any of them feel like they aren't coming from _you_ or seem ill-fitted to the situation, we ask that you tell somebody."

Sango nervously nodded.

"Secondly, about the people that you killed…"

She immediately stiffened. Sango knew the topic had to have come up sooner or later, but she had never expected it to be so blunt. Sesshoumaru wasn't beating around the bush. He knew she had killed them, and so did he. She looked away from him, making him pause as she guiltily stared at the desk.

"…they will not be held against you," he slowly continued. Sango's face shot up to stare at his. "Sango, you have consistently tried to deny that you were different from the people around you. When you were little you forced yourself to stay in that human shape of yours through external forces. You do not have very good control of your instincts to the point that when something triggers them you become single-mindedly devoted to that thing, ignoring everything else, even if is a threat to yourself.

"Such qualities are not what we want in our members, Sango. You have to learn to control yourself more, and that is a direct order. You will train with Urahara four times a week during the summer months, and twice when school returns. You will be required to keep a journal of your diet to make sure that you are fulfilling the proper dietary requirements for a half-demon of your age and gender. We will do our best to make sure that this never happens again…"

"Yes sir…"

"…to protect _you_, Sango, not them. This was hard on you because you lost something. You'd never killed humans before, never tasted human blood before, and now you have. Even with those requirements in place, Sango, be prepared. Prepare yourself for it to happen again."

She waited to make sure he was finished before she spoke again. Sango felt bad for interrupting Sesshoumaru and wondered if she would get reprimanded. "I don't want it to happen again, sir," she said honestly.

The days Sesshoumaru had spent with Rin had weakened his mask some. The faintest hint of a smile appeared in his gold eyes. "I know you don't, Tora-san. Nobody does. But, you are a half-demon. You will never have as much control as a full demon has at controlling your instincts. You are also human. You are allowed and encouraged to show more emotions than we are supposed to, and perhaps as a result you feel it with more ease. When someone threatens someone you love, or yourself Sango, your instincts will kick in. You will fight and kill to defend yourself and your family. Tigers have no family, Sango, but humans do. It is because you are human that rage builds up, and because you are human you have people you use it to defend. If you don't want it again you must live as the tiger in you was meant to live: alone."

Her brown eyes softened. She didn't want to be alone, and both of them knew that. He gently touched her arm, guiding her out. "You will train. You will try to fulfill your bodily needs as is required. But you must prepare yourself, Sango. Nothing comes without a cost. For half-demons, not even love comes without a cost."

Sesshoumaru opened the door for her. Kakashi, Rin, and Urahara stood in the hallway waiting for them. Rin immediately jumped on Sesshoumaru, and he looked down at Sango as he held the little girl. "Our meeting is adjourned."

Once Sesshoumaru was safely out of ear-shot, Urahara looked at Sango. "He wasn't too abrasive with you, was he?" She shook her head and he smiled with relief. "Good! Well then Sango-san, shall we go and train?"

"In a minute. Actually…" Sango seemed to be lost in thought for a long moment. When she looked up at Urahara he could see there was goal she had in mind. "Could you give me an hour, Urahara-sama? I want to check on Akane and Miroku and make sure they're okay. Then I will meet you in the training rooms."

Kakashi's hand landed on her shoulder. "I will escort you to the med-area. We have to talk, niece." Sango gulped, but she didn't look away from Urahara. The blond man smiled at her and walked down the hallway ahead of them, giving the uncle and niece a bit of privacy. "After you train with Urahara, you'll have to come and pack your room. I know that you're already mostly moved out of it… for years now you've liked staying at the cottage to get some privacy… it's understandable, Sango. You're… you've been through so much, Sango. Sometimes, parents… _adults_, really. I'm not your parent, Sango. Sometimes adults don't want to see children grow up. With working two jobs, I think I missed you growing up, and I regret that, Sango."

His hand found hers. She blushed. "You were always there when I needed you, Uncle. I never kept anything from you. You let me share my life with you, to be my confidant." She smiled up at him. "I think, Uncle, that sometimes you knew as much about my life as I did."

He smiled back down at her. "You should be given a place of your own, Sango. You should have a place where Akane can come over and you two can have a drinking party, a place where you can feel free to read erotica…"

"_Uncle_…"

His smile turned into a jovial grin. Kakashi even laughed at the stern face Sango was making up at him as they stepped on to the elevator. "All right, all right, I know you aren't like that. But you should have a place where you can bring a boy over and not have me worry that there's another male in the house. You should have a sanctuary. You should have a place where you can start building your memories. Call me selfish, Sango, but I don't want you to. Not now."

Sango looked up at him in surprise. He was staring at the doors of the lift and squeezing her hand, as if making sure she wouldn't slip away from him.

"It will be a war, Sango. I'll be working double duty to make sure that humans don't find out about it. If he gets his hands on weapons… The sheer idea of having you leave me and live in residence again makes me cringe. I can't look out for you there. I can't come home every night and make sure that you're okay, asleep in bed. And so, I was thinking, it wouldn't take much to convert the garage…"

"What are you thinking, Uncle?" she inquired after he had trailed off.

He looked down at her. "We can't stay here. People are being ordered to move out. After you train with Urahara, you have to come and start packing. I don't want you to live in residence when the school starts. Come and stay at the cottage. I'll be living there. It's my house, after all. I was thinking that over the rest of the summer we could change the garage into a large bedroom. Akane could stay with us during school. I can drive you two… or you could drive yourselves. We'll sell the 'vette and buy you a car, Sango. Your own car. I don't like the idea of Akane living by herself on campus either. At least if you two are together, I won't worry as much. It would give you two a bit of privacy from me. We could make it apartment style… run cable and the net out in there… we'd have to share a kitchen, though…" He paused as the doors opened. "Fuu and Ferio are making much the same offer to Ranma and Miroku. Both of them will be living with the Forests and commuting every day…"

"Uncle…" Sango smiled at him. Never, he thought, did she look more like her mother than when she smiled. "Uncle, you're family. I love the cottage. I wouldn't live anywhere else."

* * *

Akane was well. She was limping around the hospital floor, testing out her crutches. When she saw Sango she grinned. "I wish I could heal like you do. I feel like such an invalid having to limp everywhere, but the crutches have their good points." 

"Yeah," Ranma piped up. He sat in the guest chair, his face buried in a martial art magazine.

Sango looked back and forth between them, hardly able to keep a smile from her face. She had felt something different between them. There was something wrong with them, she could feel it. She felt almost ashamed when she wondered if there had been some romantic moment between them, an almost kiss, and then the elevator doors had opened and she had ruined everything. "And what benefit is that?"

Ranma lowered the paper and she gasped when she saw the print on his cheek. It wasn't a hand print, but it looked familiar… His visage was trying hard to appear nonchalant, but she could see a hint of amusement in there somewhere. "She has two portable weapons to take with her now to replace the use of one leg."

Akane winced, sliding into an occupied chair. "I did apologize. You scared me, sneaking up on me like that! At the rate you're going improving yourself, Ranma, we're going to have to get you geta sandals like Urahara wears to keep you from sneaking up on me." She smiled at Sango. "How was the meeting?"

"I don't really want to talk about it…"

"Oh?"

"We're going to have to move out of the building…" Sango was looking forward to the cottage and the idea of living there with Akane, but the IBSP had been her home, really. She had gone there after school. She had done her homework in that library. She didn't want to leave, deep down. She had worked hard all her life to be able to stay within the walls of the IBSP, after all.

Akane was nodding. "I know. Someone already told us. At least you have the cottage. I get to go home and live with my two older sisters. Kasumi's going to do nothing but try to teach me how to cook, and Nabiki will find a way to blackmail me for something or another. And dad… well…"

She trailed off. Ranma was looking away as well, appearing guilty. Sango arched an eyebrow. "Your dad?"

Akane was twiddling her thumbs. She glanced over at Ranma, and then back in her lap. Finally, after what seemed like an inquisitive infinity to Sango, she heard Ranma make the smallest sound of concession. When Akane remained silent Ranma looked at her, disgruntled.

"I'm not going to tell her. She's your partner. It's your duty."

Akane sighed and then looked up at Sango. She played absentmindedly with the crutch leaning against her side. "Well… father met Ranma that weekend we went to the dojo to train. When he saw Ranma fight I think my dad fell in love with him." Ranma shuddered at the thought. "He started talking to Ranma—asking him where he had learned to fight, what style it was, if he could show him… and since Dad knows about the IBSP, he even went so far as to ask Ranma about his heritage.

"I think Dad had something planned then and there. Kasumi talked him out of it—bless Kasumi. But when Dad showed up here and found out about my leg… well, you should have seen him, Sango-chan. When I told him Ranma protected me Dad was crying. He kept shaking Ranma's hand and calling him 'son' affectionately. Dad's rarely affectionate. Protective, yes. Most of the time he tries to act like he's the head of the family when it's Kasumi who really kept the household going since my mom died. Before I knew it, Dad was saying 'that settles it' and marched off. After supper that night Ranma came downstairs. He'd run all the way downstairs rather than taking the elevator. Dad was right behind him and butted in before Ranma had a chance to explain…"

She paused for breath. Her gaze slipped down to Sango's chin so she didn't have to look her friend in the eye. "We're engaged."

Sango could only stare.

"We are. Our parents arranged it. Dad wants Ranma because of his martial skills, that way we'll have a strong fighter to teach at the dojo. Ranma's father agreed because it means they don't have to worry about finding Ranma a job or a place to live, since Ranma inherits the dojo when we wed. The only stipulation is that Ranma has to teach."

She looked between the two of them. "Are you going to do it?"

Ranma shrugged. "Like Akane said. It was arranged by our parents. We can't go against our parents."

"But… I mean…" Akane was avoiding Ranma. He was avoiding her. Akane was so still she had stopped toying with the crutch. Sango continued to stare between them. "I don't get it! If you two hate each other, then won't you be perfectly miserable your entire lives?"

"Maybe…" they both quietly answered in unison. Akane looked up firmly. "But we'll be doing what our parents want. We won't be dishonoring our families. That's the important thing."

"So what if I have to spend my life married to an un-cute bull?"

"And so what if I have to spend the rest of my life listening to a misogynistic jerk?"

"We'll be doing the right thing," Ranma concluded. Akane was nodding. "Neither of us want to get married, not right now. We're both in school. We're both too young. Our parents have agreed to give us plenty of time to get to know each other so I can get used to being engaged to slow, weak-punching girl…"

"And I can use Ranma as a punching bag until I'm strong enough to kick his ass for calling me un-cute one more time," Akane agreed. They two of them were looking at each other again, but barely. "So really, all we've settled on is that we've…"

"Agreed to disagree. If one of us learns something about the other that makes us think morally we can't wed…"

"We'll call it off. Immediately."

"Right. But so long as I can get used to it…"

"In order to keep from being rebellious and shaming our parents…"

"We won't fight it…"

"For once in our lives, Sango, we'll both be passive…"

They nodded. Sango felt dizzy from following their conversation. Both of them were bright red, and they still weren't looking at each other eye to eye. Sango smiled wildly. "I see…" She did see. Akane and Ranma did like each other. Neither of them knew if they liked each other enough to wed, but they were willing to try out their growing friendship and see what it was capable of. Honor was something important to both of them, and she could respect and understand that. By deciding to be passive about the engagement, they neither had to disrespect their parents or hurt the partnership the four of them had formed by breaking their friendship.

"Well," Sango shrugged, trying to look on the right side, "they say that rates of divorce are lower among people who are betrothed than among people who just get hitched." She shifted nervously. "Are you sure you're okay, Akane?"

"Yeah." Slowly, a sly smile began to spread across her face. While her own budding relationship with Ranma was a relationship she often found frustrating and refused to acknowledge, she enjoyed teasing Sango about hers. "Miroku's down the hall. He's awake, you know. He seemed a bit upset when he woke up and you weren't there."

Her friend's face went bright red. She opened her mouth and stood gasping like a fish for air before she closed it and looked away. Her dark hair fell over her shoulder as she toyed with her bottom lip, thinking. "I didn't realize he'd been knocked unconscious so many times he'd begun to think it was natural to wake up and find me by him…" She kept her eyes locked to the floor. "Do you… do you think he'd want to see me? After what I've done?"

Akane stood up, leaning on her crutches. Her voice was stern. "Sango-chan! You can't keep beating yourself up for hurting those people! Miroku is your friend! He'll understand! Just like Ranma and I do, right Ranma?" The boy nodded. She turned back to Sango with a smile. It faltered when she saw that Sango was honestly worried. She was rubbing her hands on the thighs of her jeans, trying to erase their clamminess.

"I meant about nearly costing him his life, Akane…"

She didn't know how to answer that. Ranma did. Opening the magazine again he shrugged. "Miroku's a really easy going guy, Sango. I think that's why he gets along with you. You're high-strung enough to keep him from getting too bored." Sango glared at him so fiercely for being called high-strung that he shivered behind his magazine. "If you want to know so badly, ask him yourself." One eye peeked out from behind the magazine. "His bedroom is just down the hall."

With Akane encouraging her and Ranma ready to nitpick her until she got fed up enough to go, Sango walked down the hallway of her own volition. She didn't want to disappoint Akane or give Ranma a reason to think she wasn't brave. She was brave! She wanted to know—she _needed_ to know—but she was nervous. What if he hated her? What if, worse, he was _afraid_ of her?

She knocked on his door, shifting her weight from foot to foot. When she heard his voice telling her to come in she felt a small amount of tension release. He was awake, and he sounded healthy. When she opened the door she found him standing up, looking strained and pale. His skin lacked the healthy warmth, but his eyes were bright and alive. She stood, feeling out of sorts in the room, her hand still resting on the doorknob. She felt the rest of her uneasiness evaporate when he looked up and saw it was her.

He smiled at her.

There was no fear. There was no look of horror. There was no repulsion. There was just the opposite. He was happy. He was happy because he had her back. His smile was broad, and earnest, and Sango couldn't help her reaction.

She rushed at him, throwing her arms around him. She almost knocked the air from his lungs, and he was stiff at first. He hadn't expected her to do that. He watched the door slowly swing shut as she buried her face in his chest. Miroku heard Sango breath in deeply, inhaling his scent. He slowly brought up his hands and wrapped them around her.

She beat him to talking. "Now I know how you felt, Miroku-sama."

Her use of the 'sama' made him feel nervous all of a sudden. He felt confused. He couldn't help his hands, however. With her hair so close, smelling clean and irresistible, he began brushing it. She felt her body shudder and press closer to his. "What do you mean Sango?"

"When I was missing… when you thought I would never come back and you were worried about me… that's how I felt with you. When you were on that stone table and you passed out… I thought that was it. I thought they were going to kill you and I would never see you again."

His expression softened, as did his voice. "We both know that didn't happen though, Sango. I'm safe and sound. I'm a little bit tired, and I'm on a lot of painkillers," he joked, "but I'm alive, and that's what counts."

"I know! I know you are, Miroku-sama…" He heard her sniffle. Through his shirt he hadn't felt her tears. When she lifted her head he saw that she was crying again. Her voice shook as she spoke, wavering. "It's just that you mean so much to me that I don't want to ever lose you."

Miroku was staring at her. He didn't know what to say. Instead of something momentous he simply stated the obvious. "You're crying."

She nodded. "I know I am." She let go of him to dry her tears. "It's silly. Stupid human emotions. I'm not sad. I'm relieved. I'm happy. So if I'm happy, why am I crying?"

As he watched her, he slowly began to understand. She was crying because she was glad he was okay. The relief she felt was relief over him. She had even added on an honored suffix because she respected him. That last thought made him feel even warmer than the others did. Never had he felt more silly trying to romance a girl and sweep her off her feet than he did with Sango at that moment.

He placed a finger under her chin and tilted her face up to see him. "Sango… I think your tears are beautiful."

Miroku's silliness was rewarded with a blush that made her cheeks stand out. He was delighted to see that even the tips of her ears turned a slight shade of pink from his comment. His fingers became gentler as he stopped trying to make her blush and spoke from his heart. His eyes half-closed themselves as he gazed down at her, their blue hidden behind his long eyelashes. "I think _you_ are beautiful, Sango."

"Stop." It caught him by surprise. Both eyes opened wildly again. She regretted her words, but they had been needed. "Miroku-sama… the adults are all preparing for war. If we do this… it will be in the middle of a war."

"So?"

"So! So they could use me against you! They could use you against me! We'll be making ourselves vulnerable! We…"

His face softened. He sat down on the bed with shaking knees. He could stand, but only for short periods of time. "Sango… they already have used us to get to each other. Dating you will not change that for better or for worse. Yes, it may make us more vulnerable. If something were to happen to you, I don't think any force in heaven or in hell could stop me from avenging you… yes, even humans are capable of that kind of force and anger, Sango. It's the human part within you that lets you unlock the strength in your demon heritage and become stronger and faster in times of need. But we'll have happiness too, Sango. We'll have movies in the theater. We'll have study parties. I'll cook you dinner. I'll get to see you more often in normal clothes. Maybe I might even get to see you naked," he laughed. Miroku played with his hair. "And the possibility of experiencing pain will be worth it… because it's you."

Sango nervously sat down beside him on the bed. "The question is… do I care enough about you to make that same choice?"

He gave her a moment to think and then he touched her hand. Her gaze rose up to meet his. "You wouldn't be here checking up on me if you hadn't already made that decision, Sango. Our partnership was over when the IBSP arrived and arrested the members of the circle. I won't get any visions anymore. I know I won't. They've summoned Shabranigdo. And my powers are weaker than before. They're back to what they were when I first met you. It seemed that Kagura was keeping me weak by giving me drugs to enhance my psychic ability rather than suppress it. With me trying to block out what powers I could because they scared me, the fear of the visions, the pain of the visions as well… I was blind to what they were feeling. I couldn't feel nervousness when they lied, leaving Kagura free to try and manipulate me into her corner. I'm nothing more than a normal human now with good intuition and a damn good shot with a gun. The question is… can you stand me like that?"

"Why wouldn't I?" she quickly answered.

Miroku smiled at her. It was a little sad. "We will see, Sango. We will see. That's all this is Sango: seeing. I care for you. I would die for you… let's be honest: I nearly did. You killed for me, I know it. I wouldn't be here now if you hadn't kicked Shabranigdo out of your body, and neither would you. The way that I like to think of it, your bloodlust saved us both. You're my friend Sango. I rely on you; sometimes I think I rely on you too much. But does that mean I want to marry you? Does that mean I want to live my life with you romantically? I don't know. If we knew the exact moment we met someone that they were perfect for us it would be a very boring world. There would be no trial and error, no adventure…

"But I do know that since I met you I've wanted to get to know you better. I want to see the real you. I want you to see the real me. Then… then we'll know, Sango. If we aren't… then I know another man who loves you, and I'll get to have another adventure. But if we are Sango… then I would happy. I'd be very happy."

She looked up at him hopefully. "It's just an experiment… No more other girls for you? No more flirting?"

He held up his right hand to swear. "I swear that I will have romantic interest in no girl other than you… but I can't promise that I won't occasionally think another girl has a hot ass or flirt to get a bit of extra gravy from the lunch ladies in the cafeteria." Sango was looking at him grumpily. "What? Can you promise that you won't look at Urahara and think he's attractive?"

"Yes! Yes, I… well… well… I don't know." She paused. "But it _is_ just an experiment, right?" He nodded. Sango felt relived. She slid off the bed and offered him a hand up. "Come on, then. The IBSP is packing up and moving out. I'll help you pack up your room, seeing as how you don't have the best mobility right now, Miroku-sama."

He took it and smiled at her as he slipped his arm around her shoulders for support. "Sango… it's just Miroku still. Respect me some other way, and call me Miroku… you know… I think I have decided something though. Even though I know my last name now… I think I'm finally going to formally adopt Ferio's last name. He's the last one in his family, you know, like me. Let that damn line die out and hide, but let his live on, I say…" He grinned. "How soon do you think we can give them grandkids?"

"_Miroku_," she said warningly. But she laughed when she said it. The sound was crisp and clean. Her body was strong and hard, but soft in all the right places. He thought she was perfect. At that moment, as her body was flooded with happiness, Sango could find no fault with Miroku. He made things fun and unpredictable. He made her laugh and cry, and he was so honest with her sometimes it hurt.

The problem was this: as Sango laughed, her body remained as it was. She laughed as a seventeen year old in love laughed, though her body was several years older. She knew that one day her maturity level and her body would catch up. Miroku, as he watched her laugh, was already aging.

And somewhere, as she cut a hole between the worlds, Kikyou's mind was consumed with the two bodies she had let slip through her grip. If the IBSP was as ruthless as she they would slaughter Miroku in his sleep to ensure her soul could not pass into another body, but she knew they would not. She would have the last child in that damn familyline. And then, she would use him to get Sango.

She would make Sango bow down in submission. That body would be hers. With it and the powers it possessed, nothing would stop her.

* * *

To be continued in _The Cruel Twists of Fate_


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